


The Crown Prince

by sareliz



Series: Loki of Midgard [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Cute Kitten Alert, Darcy Lewis Aces Adulting, F/M, Frigga is meddling, Fun With Metaphysics, If You Think You're So Enlightened Go Spend Two Weeks With Your Parents, Jane Foster Loves Science, Jane Foster is Not Amused, Jötunn Loki, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Is Wiser Than He Looks, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki is Not Amused, Loki-centric, Mischief Managed, Nick Fury Prepares For The Apocalypse, Non-Psychotic Loki, Odin's A+ Parenting, Personal Paranoia Reaches DEFCON 1, Sane Loki, Sexy Times, Thor Loves Electricity, Warning: Loki, no really, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 103,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sareliz/pseuds/sareliz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki had never been the hero in his own tale or the lover in his own epic poem, until now. Having long lived in the shadow of his brother, Thor, the crown prince, their roles are now reversed.</p><p>Won’t that be interesting?</p><p>'The Crown Prince: Casting a long shadow', takes up where ‘Loki of Midgard: How to get lost and found in the same week’ left off. Book Two of the series, ‘Loki of Midgard’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wherein Prince Loki, newly married, returns to Midgard.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linusmir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linusmir/gifts).



> Hi! I hope you like this next installment of our favorites characters doing their thing on Midgard. Thank you to all who have reviewed and left kudos! You're awesome!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is still reeling from twelve hours with Frigga, Jane is full of observations, Aiden doesn’t know what to make of any of this, Austin reminisces about Loki’s childhood, Jack works on managing Paula, and Loki has another emotional meltdown. But a minor one. Nothing like canon. :D

He held her hand and jumped into the swirling vortex feeling the happiest he’d ever felt in his life. Loki heard her whoop of joy during the rush of travel. Well before he might normally reverse his position, he yelled out to her, “Twist your body!” and did just that, his hand pulling her along with him. Darcy stumbled when they landed. Loki reached out to steady her even while she looked up at him and grinned.

“Hi,” she said, smiling widely. _‘I really missed you. Damn you’re gorgeous. This was such a crazy day. I can’t wait to tell you everything. There are going to be doors! In the desert! And we’re going to need composting everything. Including toilets, I think. Do you guys do desalination? I mean, better than we do?’_

He decided to kiss her, as she was making no sense. Her lips were soft and honeyed, but her mind was not quietened by his efforts.

_‘I love you so much, Loki! And I missed you so much, which is crazy because it was just one day, I know, but still, and it was such an overwhelming day, and I mean, like, whoa! Sensory overload! And this is nice, too, hey did something just hit me on the head?’_

Something certainly hit him on the head.

They both looked up to see the bifrost receding and flowers raining down all around them in the desert.

“My flowers!” Darcy squealed and did a small pirouette of joy. Which made her armor and weapons shift, thud and clank ever so slightly.

Loki watched, bemused, as she gathered up a few flowers at her feet, then noticed her mother.

“Hi, Mom!” And there was embracing. And a few more moments of flower gathering. Then she noticed her sister.

“Aiden! You came! You’re awesome and I love you!” And there was embracing. And a few more moments of flower gathering.

All the while her thoughts were racing. It was slowly dawning on Loki that the day might have actually been too much for his beloved to take in, much less process altogether. She was acting a bit… scattered. And he had an idea for gathering her back together again.

He went to her, embraced her in an admittedly confining way and softly whispered to her, “Sweetheart. This has been a busy day. Why don’t you greet your father and brother, and then we’ll gather flowers, hmm?”

“Right!” Darcy exclaimed happily, and shifted over to her father.

“Welcome home, Jane,” Loki said as he approached her. He held out his hand to her and as she took it, he shook it in the Midgardian fashion. “Thank you for being a part of our handfasting. You handled your weapon well. We are honored to have you in our lives.”

Jane smiled and blushed. He had a quick word with her, presenting his idea and securing her agreement.

As he walked away from her and back to Darcy, he heard Jane call out, “Let’s put all these flowers in the van, okay? I’ll go pull it closer. Jack, why don’t you come with me and bring the car up, too? And let’s grab these trunks, oh, that one’s mine.”

Loki pulled a large, wide-mouthed, canvas bag from the store and bent over, starting to put the flowers in. With so many hands working, it did not take long, and they were walking toward the transport before it even arrived.

Loki had his arm around Darcy’s waist as they walked. Her mental chatter to him had been non-stop and so much more scattered than of late.

“Aiden, would you like to ride back with Jane? I’m sure the two doctors would have plenty to discuss of recent events,” Loki pointed out.

“Sure. Okay,” she replied quietly.

“I’m hungry. You guys hungry?” Darcy asked. _‘Ack, I don’t have my cell phone! Loki! Where’s my cell phone? Oh my god! You guys didn’t leave it on Asgard, did you?’_

“Jane is calling for some food, and she will pick it up on the way back,” he calmly told her. “And Aiden has your cell phone, and has painted some portraits with it.”

“Thanks, Rockstar,” she breathed.

The transport drew close and it was not a moment too soon. Loki handed off the bags of flowers to Jane and pulled Darcy back toward him when she tried to follow her.

_‘Wha- hey, now! Wanna go home! Hooooome!’_

“There is a faster way,” he whispered to her.

“Okay, we’ll see you there, Loki. See you in an hour, Darce. Jack, you good to follow me?” Jane asked, as the others began to enter the transport and make themselves comfortable. Darcy, meanwhile, was doing some sort of shimmy and wiggle in his arms as her thoughts spun crazily around him.

He sorted Darcy in his arms so that they faced one another and pulled her chin back toward him so that he had her eyes.

“I somehow feel, my love, as if I don’t have your undivided attention.”

The mental chatter stopped, and Loki smiled. He shifted them, and they no longer stood in the desert, but in their bedroom.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he echoed.

“It’s been a really crazy day. My brain is spinning.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I have something that can help stop the spinning.”

“Oh, good! What is it? Like, a magic spell or something?”

“Or something. ‘Tis a tripartite cure. Ecstasy, orgasms, and rest.”

“Hah! You just want to have sex.” She looked triumphant.

“Tis true. I never mind having sex with you, and I do frequently desire it, but I promise you this will help.” He kissed her and held her close to him, his beautiful wife. And then he realized that his words were misleading, though he had not really meant to mislead just a moment ago - it was perhaps not shocking, but also true, that lying was as easy as breathing and Loki often forgot he was doing it. But he meant it when he promised not to lie to her. He meant it with his entire being.

Loki ended the kiss and held her gaze. He cleared his throat - being utterly truthful was slightly more difficult than he had first envisioned.

“What is it, baby?” Darcy asked gently.

“You were right,” Loki answered through a tight throat. He took another deep breath. “You know I… struggle… with how much I desire you. And truly, my heart, I do desire you now. This day was,” he sighed and looked away for a moment, “strangely challenging in ways I shall tell you of later, but to not see you, or hear your laugh, or have even the fleeting touch of your skin on mine, to say nothing of those honeyed lips-”

And she kissed him. With all of her attention and all of her will, she kissed him. _‘We both need this. I get it. It’s cool. We can both need this. And just for the record, I vote for sex with clothes on. Because shit, you look hot.’_

He broke the kiss on a pant and twirled them around until he had her pressed against the closed portal to their chamber. His voice was pitched low, though not on purpose. “You would have me take you thus, Your Royal Highness?”

“It’s a top five location, I’ll admit,” his saucy love replied, now having no problem focusing.

Loki dropped down into a squat before her, his fingers on the hem of her skirts, finding her ankles and slowly, slowly drawing the fabric higher and higher. He looked up at her through his lashes. “When you walked into the Observatory this evening, you were so radiantly lovely. I’d never in my life seen anything more beautiful, Darcy of Asgard.” His hands were on her soft, bare thighs and he was now uncomfortably hard in his own breeches, though that would be remedied in just a moment. Loki tucked the bottom of her dress over the handles of her daggers, now trailing his fingers over the lace covered mound he had grown to appreciate so very much. He shifted the lace to one side and let his fingers trace lines and patterns until one fingertip dipped inside.

Darcy moaned, her breath hitched, and she moaned once more.

Loki helped her ease one thigh over his shoulder and he leaned in and feasted hungrily. Her fingers clutched and scratched at his scalp even while her entire body shivered and shook. Her orgasm was quick and easy and Loki was almost sorry to leave. But not quite. He unlaced his breeches and released his throbbing staff which had been more or less engorged since he first laid eyes on her some twenty minutes ago. A single pump was all he allowed himself while his lips and tongue were still occupied lapping up her honey.

Loki released himself and shifted so that he held the thigh which had been over his shoulder. He raised himself back to his feet and wrapped that thigh around his waist, instead, pulling up Darcy’s other leg, watching with a satisfied grin as his beautiful darling tried to rally even though she felt boneless. He rearranged her weaponry and shifted until his tip was at her entrance.

Darcy hissed as he teased her, rubbing himself around her portal, around the heart of her arousal.

Loki’s own groan was full-throated as he sheathed himself in the slick, tight sleeve that was the new seat of all his desire. He shook slightly, just holding himself inside of her, his hands full of her curvaceous bottom, her arms thrown round his neck and her legs round his waist.

“Darcy,” he sighed. He pulsed within her and she mewled in response. “O, Darcy, I--”

But then she clenched him hard and tight, drawing him even deeper. He cried out and thrust twice before he got himself under control.

“O, for God’s sake, Loki. Would you make with the sexing now?” Darcy growled out, obviously having found her second wind.

He reared back and looked her in the eye.

“I am trying,” he hissed, even as he shook involuntarily, “to exert a measure of control, woman.”

“And I am trying,” she said, eyes flashing, “to make you lose it! I’m wearing armor for chrissake!”

His eyes rolled back in his head at the thought. She was wearing armor and she had no idea what it did to him. If she said anything else, he missed it. His hips slammed into hers not once or twice but now continuously as he held her, his arms full of his very own Asgardian shieldmaiden. He’d finally found her. Finally, and tonight he’d made her his very own.

He rutted inside of her like a wild thing, growling and groaning, desperate and unfettered. Armor clanged and shifted as bodies ground and crashed together and the door rattled with each of Loki’s thrusts. The suck and squish of their bodies was barely heard, though thoroughly felt. It was groans and growls and then finally, Darcy’s higher pitch, more than a yell, less than a scream. And his own.

But O, hellfire. He wasn’t done.

Yes, he had reached his climax and left his seed in her fertile crevasse, but his thirst for her was not yet slaked.

“Darcy,” he called to her quietly, his voice still filled with his need. He shifted so he had a free hand to stroke her face, to coax her to look at him. “Darcy,” he called again, insistently.

“Hmmm?” She blinked twice, thrice and then focused on him.

“Darcy, please, I need…” He couldn’t say it.

She blinked again. _‘Well, you can stop time and I’m sure you can fix my hair, so baby, you can have whatever you want for as long as you want. This is our wedding night, you know.’_

He pulsed inside of her, having not had a chance yet to lose his girth, and perhaps, in his passion, he wouldn’t just yet.

He gasped at the feeling, but not just the feeling. It was also her. This woman who would give him what he needed.

And what he needed was to see her. He thought briefly of conjuring a mirror, but it required more concentration than he bothered to devote to the project. Instead he cast an image of himself across the room, by the dresser.

Loki walked Darcy to the side of the bed and helped her to her feet, righting the front of her dress and slinging her belt across her hips.

Oh, by the nine, those hips.

He had, honestly, intended to push her down on the bed and take her from behind, having his illusion provide him with the glorious sight of it. But that was before she sunk to the floor, gotten slightly caught up in her own dress, righted her situation with some giggling, and then nearly swallowed his cock whole.

 _‘Tastes like me,’_ she thought, glancing up at him.

“Well, it should,” he gasped out, burying his fingers in her soft ringlets, trying not to jostle her coronet.

_‘I wonder how far I can take you. I have to admit, I kinda feel like I have enough energy to climb a mountain, so I might as well go for it, you know? Not that deep throating you is like climbing a mountain. But, whatever. Me with the energies, like whoa. Well, I’ve read enough about this. Here goes.’_

Four tries later and she had it.

The rhythm she employed was melting his very bones. Three thrusts deep in her throat while she held her breath and six shallow ones as she breathed and swirled her tongue around his head. And over again. And again. And again.

It’s possible that his mouth uttered inane babblings. He wasn’t entirely certain what he was saying. He wasn’t sure he cared, either. Watching from across the room only worked until his orgasm struck and his knees buckled, and the illusion winked out of existence.

She continued pumping him with her hand. “This okay? You still want more?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

His eyes were closed, but he could hear the rustle of fabric, the shifting of scabbards and the metallic clinks of her armor. And then he could feel her. His eyes snapped open. She’d mounted him right there as he lay on the floor and -- “Aaah! Darcy! O, Darcy,” he cried. “For the love of all that’s holy, woman, ride me hard.”

“Can you focus enough,” Darcy panted out, “to add two more to this party? ‘Cause I’m up for it.”

“Yes,” he growled out, and then he was naked and hard in front of her, his feet straddling his own torso as he stood on the floor. And then he was naked and hard behind her, lifting her skirts and preparing her for his entrance.

_‘Blue please. Besides, those clan lines are wicked sensitive, and now seems like a good time for that.’_

The Loki that stood before her chilled and turned a deep cerulean and his cock became so much more sensitive than before.

The Loki that knelt behind her chilled and became blue and the finger buried in her heat became buried in lava.

“In a moment,” the third Loki said, panting “we’ll need to shift. But for now, darling, take me deep,” he said, taking her hips and pushing her full of Loki Prime, “and be still while I seat myself within you.”

He took his time to work his hard length inside of her, not too quickly. He couldn’t keep from shivering and shaking all the while. The sensations were so intense, and Darcy was taking the opportunity to practice her cock swallowing. Not every attempt was a success, but even her failures made him groan in ecstasy.

Groaning further still, the tertiary Loki seated himself completely just as she took the secondary Loki to his root and swallowed, allowing her throat muscles to momentarily massage his cock before withdrawing once more. Taking his opportunity, the tertiary Loki put one hand on her hip to ensure he would remain inside of her, and then pulled her back with him as he sat behind her, almost entirely reclining with one elbow supporting their weight.

At that same moment, Loki Prime shifted his legs. First one, then the other and then he was rising up on his knees, which he did just as the tertiary Loki sat back. He wrapped Darcy’s legs around his waist, even as he leaned over her and himself.

The secondary Loki disappeared, as he suddenly became superfluous.

Loki kissed her as he fucked her into himself, both cocks being squeezed deliciously.

 _‘Yay! It’s a Darcy sandwich!’_ was her only coherent thought.

As he kissed her thoroughly and continued to pump his cock in and out of her beautiful sheath, he spoke to her from behind, his voice every bit as rough as it always was when he assumed his natural form.

“I don’t know why I’m like this tonight. I don’t know why I can’t seem to get enough of you. But I can’t, Darcy,” he said, gasping and halting, but slowly getting the words out all the same. “Perhaps… perhaps it was watching you walk in, looking every inch Aesir, every inch a confident and glowing shieldmaiden, every inch of what I always thought I wanted. And yet, it was so much better than that. Because what I wanted… it wasn’t for me. Not really. It wouldn’t have brought me happiness.

“ _ **You**_ bring me happiness. You, my young Midgardian love, my sweet and lusty Human, my political science major who has only just turned twenty-one. You, who only dreamed of magic and other realms, you who paint perfect likenesses instantly and send them hundreds of miles in order to announce our engagement in the middle of the night. And yet there you were, standing in the Observatory, looking like my fantasy, the fantasy I didn’t know I had. And you did that for me.”

 _‘And here I am, still dressed the same way. Still working for you?’_ his bride thought to him.

He growled. “Can you doubt it? Can there truly be any doubt in your mind? How many times must I lose myself in lust between your thighs before you accept that you have turned my life upside down?”

He held her as she came, and his thrusts slowed afterwards until he just gently held himself within her, letting her rest. He wasn’t close to done, but it would be some time, he thought, until he was able to orgasm again and perhaps, perhaps, this could be the last one of the night. Or, at least of this portion of the night.

She tore her lips away from his and he shifted immediately to her throat.

“I love you, Loki,” she panted. _‘I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve you, but I’m really glad I did it.’_

* * *

Jane put the truck into gear and slowly pulled out, back toward the road. She checked in her rear view mirror to make sure Jack was following, and when he was, she slowly proceeded, briefly wondering if Darcy and Loki were, in fact, having wild and crazy monkey sex. But of course they were. The tiniest little part of Jane squeaked in dismay, but she put a bag over her head and shoved her in a closet, pretending that she had no crush of any kind on any ancient space prince and got on with her admittedly wonderful life of having an ancient space prince as a patron and ally in rocking the scientific world back on its collective ass.

And Frigga! Holy shit, the Queen of Asgard was, as Darcy would say, a complete and absolute Rockstar and Jane was fairly certain that she wanted to become Frigga when she grew up.

And Darcy. Now, hasn’t that just been one surprise after another? Jane could have sworn that she’d gotten the bottom of the barrel in terms of interns, but then Darcy had turned out to be a pretty efficient multitasker. She could sass with the best of them, and that often got on Jane’s nerves, but she was thorough and thoughtful, and that was before Loki showed up. And since Loki… well, it was probably all there before hand, but maybe Jane had never had the opportunity to see how Darcy would act, and well, of course, of course she _hadn’t_ had the opportunity, until, you know, she _did_. And that’s when she saw. And boy, howdy, she saw - Jane saw that Darcy was intelligent, witty, imaginative - a wonderful creative problem solver. And that was a skill that Jane valued quite highly, indeed.

And now she had the older sister in the car. Who was she? What was she like? An older, more mature version of Darcy? Fantastic!

“So, you’re Darcy’s older sister. Hi. I’m Jane,” she said, mindful of what Darcy had said a few days ago about Jane’s lack of social skills. The terrible part was that she knew how to be polite, what to say and when to say it, but she had just been so distracted of late. Granting deadlines! Bah! She was so done with them!

“Hello,” Darcy’s sister said quietly as Jane searched for her name. What was it? It started with an A, just like Austin’s… Alice? Agnes? Anthea? Alberta? Damn it, woman, say your name!

“I hear you’re a medical doctor. Are you nearing the end of your residency?” Jane said, still mentally searching for her name. Ann? Anna? Analise? Annabeth? Annabel? Astrid? Ariel? Ariel! Maybe something like Ariel? No, who names a child after a tragic Disney character?

“Ah, no. I just started actually. Still don’t really know what I want to specialize in.”

To hell with her first name, then. Dr. Lewis. Jane would just call her Dr. Lewis in her head, because that at least wasn’t wrong. Well, _Dr. Lewis_ seemed to have zero personality so far. Either that or she just really wasn’t interested in making small talk. But it was an hour drive, for heaven’s sake!

“I’m sure you still have plenty of time,” Jane said, trying to be kind. “You would have really loved Asgard. Darcy and I went to this place, and I don’t really know how to describe it. It didn’t really feel like a hospital, though that’s I suppose what it was. It felt more like a spa with nurses. But the healers were using the most amazing advanced technology! I didn’t recognize everything, but I’m pretty sure that one thing was a quantum field generator, though really, the healers had no sense of humor when I referred to it by anything other than the names they used. ‘Soul Forge.’ Whatever. But I’m telling you, they obviously get results. I mean, look at me! Yesterday I was the poster child for the overcaffeinated, hyper-stressed, young academic without tenure! Last year I had kidney stones twice, and my doctor keeps warning me about my blood pressure and possible ulcers, but you know what? Today I feel amazing! And I looked in a mirror! I haven’t looked this good since high school! And back then I didn’t know how to dress. I mean, sure, I’m actually in armor right now, so maybe not a good point, but outside of royal weddings, I swear I have a decent dress sense. I mean, no one looks normal at royal weddings, right? But at least Loki was the only one in a funny hat. Fascinators, man. They go too far. But anyway, I don’t know what the hell they did to me, but oh it’s on my list to find out. And figure out how soon we can replicated it on Earth.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Lewis asked, and Jane was happy to have finally peaked the woman’s interest. Clearly she was nothing like Darcy.

“Well, that’s generally one of Loki’s aims, and it’s certainly Darcy’s now. Cultural and technological exchange, you know? I’m so excited. I’m resigning my position and we’re going to start an institute in the embassy. Darcy and the Queen and I hashed out the basic plan, though it’s right up Loki’s alley. But wow, is he amazing, or what?”

“He’s really something,” Dr. Lewis said softly, but Jane couldn’t tell what she might have meant.

“Did you guys get a chance to hang out and get to know each other?”

“Not really. I mean, there was the ride out here, but he and Dad mostly talked. And then on the walk, he told us a story from his childhood. He seems cool, but we didn’t really talk, just he and I.”

“Oh, he’s just… I mean, the man is _completely_ amazing. Completely. He’s older than dirt and he just knows _everything_! God, I could talk to him for hours and not get bored. I mean, I do, come to think of it. He’s helping me with my research, and it’s going to be so wonderful because really, I mean, really, we’re going to be redeveloping all scientific assumptions made up until this point. I mean, seriously, everything!”

“What are you talking about?”

“ _Magic is real, Dr. Lewis._ I’ve seen it. I’ve seen him make an entire roomful of equipment disappear - and it really was gone, including this truck, and wasn’t that where most of my grant money went! - and then reappear later, when he was done using the space in a different manner. And he can teleport. And he skypes with his mother, except in full, life-sized hologram form, with no supportive technology. And - I’m surprised Austin didn’t mention this - he can make copies of himself. Full on, corporeal copies. He stores all of his stuff in a separate dimension - I shit you not, I now have a trunk from his mother that does the same thing, I mean, it’s straight out of Harry Potter - I mean, he’s seriously a full on master sorcerer. He studied magic for, like, eight hundred years. Eight. Hundred. Years. I’ve studied physics for ten years - twenty, if you count postdoc work and the research I’m doing now. And I’m considered well educated, cutting edge, with all the information I need at my finger tips! Twenty years versus eight hundred! And let me tell you, it’s not like Loki’s the dull crayon in the pack. He’s really not. He’s a _seriously_ smart cookie. And you should have seen the apprentices! Oh, we interviewed a bunch of baby mages for a kind of cultural exchange program. But anyway. Like, every single one of them _idolized_ Loki. Never met him, of course. And I don’t even think he knows! Darcy doesn’t think so, anyway. But yeah, he’s amazing. And, you know, not hard on the eyes, either.”

“The man’s gorgeous,” Dr. Lewis said plainly.

“You should see him doing his training exercises, topless. Ooo! It’s really enough to make a woman swear off human men for life. Because if you can’t have that, why bother?”

“Really? That good?”

“Oh, girl. You have no idea. Really. No idea. The man’s a tall, cool glass of water in the middle of this desert. You have to get Darcy to get him to do an exhibition or something. And then brace yourself. I don’t know which is better, knives or axes, but holy shit. Pardon my French.”

“What do you mean, knives or axes?”

“Oh, didn’t I say? It’s weapons training. He’s got these magical targets, like Obi Wan used with Luke, except there are a dozen of them. He starts with stationary target practice, then moving target practice, then Everyone Attack Loki practice - well, that’s my name for it anyway - and pretty typically when he’s done I beat a hasty retreat and your sister jumps his bones. Which really, I can’t blame her. I would, in her place. But anyway, he’s got these throwing knives, and these long daggers, and that’s one training bit, and then he’s got throwing axes - who knew, right? - a battle axe, and a glaive - that’s what he was holding during the ceremony - and they’re quite different styles, the knives and the axes, but whoa. I don’t know which is my favorite, yet.”

“So how did they really meet?”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad told me that he was meditating in the desert and Darcy walked up to him and introduced herself and that was that. But how did it really happen? Did he walk out of one of your wormholes?”

“Well, a wormhole, sure, but not one I made. I mean, my research isn’t _that_ far along yet. But he was totally sitting there, waiting for us to come to him in the desert. And he was meditating, as I understand it. Darcy acted like they were old friends, and I misunderstood and thought they actually were, so I continued investigating other phenomenon for, like, the next hour while they were apparently falling in love, until Darcy took me to task for being rude to her future husband. To be sure, I thought she was joking at the time. I’m still pretty sure she was, though that’s an assumption on my part. I haven’t checked. But they were certainly engaged by the next morning. Oh, yes. Talk about whirlwind romance. But they just… they cosmically _get_ each other. I mean, she’s twenty-one and he’s ten forty-six, but they just cosmically _get_ each other. It’s so clear, just watching them together. And as perfect as he is, I get the feeling he’s not completely perfect. Not that Darcy has been totally forthcoming with the details, but she’s alluded to it. And I think that’s a source of comfort for her. Because if he was perfect, I mean, how can you be in a relationship with someone who is actually perfect? But he does _get_ her. I mean, he should. I mean, he can read her mind. It’s funny sometimes to just hear him answer her thoughts, and to witness an entire conversation like that. And I’m pretty sure he can’t read mine most of the time, or if he can, he’s got the straightest poker face ever. Actually, I’m sure he does have the straightest poker face, ever, anyway. You know, I don’t want to think about that anymore. So, are you enjoying your hospital rounds? What kind of rounds are you doing now?”

The conversation shifted to the most boring medical residency ever, but Jane was proving to herself and her truck that she could, in fact, act like a normal human being and make small talk. Which, come to think of it, she hadn’t actually done much of during the earlier part of the drive.

* * *

“Paula! That’s unkind.”

Austin sat back in his seat and sighed. His mom was in one of her moods. Normally, she was a pretty chill woman, but Darcy knew how to rile her up and could do it in her sleep, six states away. And this sudden marriage? Yeah. Riled. Didn’t help that Loki didn’t seem to warm to her like he did with Dad.

He should have ridden in the truck with the girls.

“Just because your mother meddled in our wedding, doesn’t mean you get to pay it forward and meddle in our daughters’ weddings. Maybe the chain needs to break somewhere, you know?”

“But Jack! That’s just it! I was never even asked! I was never consulted even once! And did you see her? Did you just see her? Everything! Absolutely everything was the way that woman wanted it to be! Darcy was wearing _armor_!”

And then Mom started crying…

“Do you honestly think that is what Darcy wanted? Our Darcy? Weapons? Armor? The entire service in a different language? On a different _planet_?”

“Paula, you have to calm down. It sounds like you’re insinuating that Darcy isn’t capable of making her own decisions, but you know very well that she is. Just because you would have prefered to be consulted, doesn’t mean this isn’t what Darcy wanted, or what Darcy consented to. You don’t need to protect her anymore. She’s grown up, Paula. She’s an adult now. This is what she’s chosen for herself. This is the man she’s chosen for herself and the life she’s chosen for herself.”

“I don’t like it! I don’t like any of it!”

“Well, that’s fine. You can not like it all you want. But I think Loki is great. And I like his mom just fine. I thought Darcy looked radiant and overjoyed. And Loki looked like he had just won the lottery. And the fact that they also looked like they were ready to repel an invasion, well, I just chalk that up to cultural differences and move on. At least she was wearing a dress she could sit down in, and use the bathroom unassisted. More than you can say about your wedding dress.”

Austin’s mother just huffed and looked out the window into the darkness.

“Anyway. Everything is going to change now. She’s royalty, now. And not an American anymore.”

“My baby,” Paula sighed, still crying. “Does she really know what she’s doing? She doesn’t know what she’s doing--”

“Yes, she does,” Dad interrupted.

Austin decided to get out his phone and check in on Facebook. He updated his status. _‘Just finished at Darcy’s wedding. Totally amazing. New BIL is a great guy. And now? The afterparty...’_ That was innocuous enough, he thought. No pictures posted. Though damn, he had some amazing pictures on his phone. Dad had been filming the entire thing on his phone and Aiden had Darcy’s phone and was taking some great pictures, too, from a more traditional angle than he could get. Mom believed in ‘being in the moment’ and refused to get her phone out, but whatever. Pictures, man. Those two did look amazing.

The whole thing was kind of mindblowing.

Loki had been cool as shit, of course, because that’s just how he rolls, and all the way in the car earlier in the evening Austin had kind of been wondering if he was just going to show up to his own wedding in black leather pants and a green shirt. Because it seemed to be the case. Not that he didn’t make that shit look good, because he did, but still. Austin himself, along with his father were totally in tuxedos, Aiden was wearing the dress she’d worn for her graduation, and Mom was in the dress she’d bought for her and Dad’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.

But then they’d pulled up to Jane’s crazy rocket science van. Everyone got out and when Austin finished closing the car door and turned around he couldn’t keep his exclamation in.

“Holy shit, man!”

“Austin, language,” he mother reprimanded him, obviously without having looked up.

“Okay,” Austin admitted, not paying his Mom any attention at all and still staring at his brother-in-law. “I feel underdressed, now.”

Loki threw back his head and laughed.

What little light there was reflected off the man’s golden armor. And there was a lot of it to reflect the moonlight. He was sort of glistening. And very well armed.

“So,” Austin started again, “horns.” Because there was something very striking on Loki’s head. The shadow that this man would cast… well, Austin sure as hell wouldn’t want to stand in it.

“Yes, horns. Come, I shall tell you a story Darcy knows not yet as our eyes adjust to the darkness. You may find it useful to look away from my armor, as it will only hinder the adjustment.”

Loki paced as he talked, his hands sometimes behind his back, sometimes before him, wildly gesturing to describe a detail. Austin, at least, tried not to look at him, but it was difficult and strange not to give his attention in that way.

“Long ago in the days of our youth and folly, my brother and I were but barely ten decades old. This was just the time in our lives when our defining traits begin to emerge, and our bodies begin taking the shape approximating the adult form. I know not how to compare it to the childhood of a human, but it is that time when children truly begin to understand right from wrong, and that actions have consequences.”

“Twelve,” Aiden said softly. “That happens at about twelve for human beings. Give or take.”

“Excellent. So, we were about twelve, with no formal training in the arts of war nor magic, and there we were, out, climbing trees, fording streams, chasing wild boar and generally getting as dirty as possible. It was adventuring at its finest for two young twelve year olds, though now I would categorize it as a mildly vigorous picnic luncheon.

“Now, this was a time, too, when it was right for us to begin picking the symbols of our future life. My father, for instance, chose the raven at this age, a symbol of wisdom and knowledge, and was later given the bullock, a symbol of dominance and strength. These symbols are represented in his battle helm, which bears both horns and wings. He had told us that we were allowed to pick one for ourselves and that we would bear it hence until such time as he himself were to add to it, or change it entirely.

“Thor immediately chose the raven, which I also had desired. But, once he had named his choice, I refused to be seen choosing the same. I named the bullock, and forthwith received the beating of my life from my brother, who, numbskull that he was, saw it as a challenge to my father. Which, of course, it wasn’t. And naturally, all of this happened while we were climbing trees out of sight of the otherwise watchful eye of our mother. Or perhaps she simply knew we needed to have it out.

“After a few choice insults from my own humble person as to my elder brother’s capacity for wisdom, given his already evidenced preference for avoiding knowledge, we mutually agreed to terms of peace, or as he liked to think of it, surrender. Neither one of us would choose a symbol of our father, and we could both rest secure in the fact that he would inevitably bestow a second symbol at a time of his own discretion. Which, by the by, he has not seen fit to do as yet. But then, we are still young, and there is time.

“And now, I think, we may walk without fear of stumbling. Your eyes can well perceive the texture of the ground? Aiden? Austin? Jack? Paula? Excellent. Let us proceed, and I shall come to the point of my story.

“Well, we spent the entire afternoon sitting in that damn tree debating the symbolic merits of every single animal we knew. My favorite for him would have been the tusks of the bilgesnipe, a ferocious, mindless, rampaging animal whose very hide reeks of fermented onion. The animal itself symbolizes the swirling, mindless rage of a tornado, and I would like to point out that even then I had him dead to rights. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he took that suggestion not well at all. For his part, he thought that no better animal for me would be the sightless vole, a tiny, scurrying albino animal who spends most of its time underneath the ground. The animal symbolizes secret knowledge, and I will admit that I know my fair share of that by now. But the thought of having a helm decorated with the claws of the sightless vole inspired me no more than the bilgesnipe’s tusks did my brother. So our search continued.

“Finally, my brother chose the falcon. He always had a love of birds and flying and was forever trying to learn the language of the ravens, though he had neither the aptitude nor the patience for it, and it did suit him well, while still being an animal of regal enough bearing that it would not be humiliating to wear such a helm. The symbolism of the falcon is that of the swift and deadly hunter, and he bears it well. There is no man I would be loathe to face in battle, save my brother. ...At least, when he is at full capacity.”

Loki’s narrative paused for a moment and he seemed sad, somehow. Austin wondered if he had gotten word about his brother’s latest bullshit, or something. He wondered at the time if he’d get to meet the guy tonight.

When Loki started speaking again, he was just as upbeat as before.

“For myself, I chose the mountain goat of Vanaheim, my mother’s home planet. It is a somewhat solitary animal who does well both in the temperate, grassy valley as well as the high and icy wastes. Its horns can grow in several different formations, depending on circumstances, and thus my battle helm is a slightly more sedate form than this, my ceremonial armor. But the symbolism is one I still quite like: stubbornness, particularly manifested in the ability to thrive, no matter the condition.

“That is the story of my helmet, and now we are arrived. Heimdall, kindly send down four guards to assist the travel of my new family.”

And then they were abducted by aliens, into a very bright light, in the middle of the New Mexico desert, to a planet far, far away.

* * *

It had taken another half hour of sometimes slow, sometimes fast, always raw, so-called sandwich sex, at which point his Darcy was totally exhausted and he’d finally found release from whatever mindless Jotunn erotic mania that had gotten ahold of him - of which his books said  _nothing_ . Then there was an indeterminate amount of light sleep - hard to tell how long when clocks kept reading the same time as they did when they’d first began - and now they were propped up in bed, Darcy was curled up and leaning on him, and Loki had his arms and legs wrapped around her. They’d started off with her in his lap, but the weapons were too uncomfortable to sit on and Darcy refused to let him disrobe. Regardless, Loki was glad once more that he had fastened the legs of the bed more securely to the floor days ago, or else in their position leaning against the wall they surely would have gone tumbling to the floor by now.

At first he’d told her about his day, culminating with his confusion over the meddler and his determination to proceed with infinite caution. He warned her against discussing it with anyone at all, including himself, even in her head (so far as she could help it), whilst time was still in motion. Darcy faithfully promised to ask him through her thoughts to stop time, should she have a concern or question about the meddler.

Loki released the flow of time around them, then, starting the clock once more and they sat for another hour as Darcy described her day in overflowing words. She told him of the gifts, first, and Loki was patently stunned. He had no idea at all that Frigga had made such preparations. It did explain why she had accepted so well and so easily his choice in wife.

A dark thought crept into his mind and reminded him of something he hadn’t really been fully conscious of, before. _But you married in haste because you knew Frigga would accept your choice. You weren’t quite so sure about Odin, were you? Would he make a fuss? Would he take convincing? Best to do it as soon as possible, before he wakes, guarantee Darcy her apple and let Frigga handle Odin, because you’re still afraid of him, aren’t you?_

He acknowledged his fear and shook the darkness away as best he could, clutching Darcy a bit tighter for a moment.

Darcy continued on, telling him of their plans, of the Institute, the apprentices and the fact that he would apparently be supervising the last ten years of their apprenticeship. He laughed in disbelief when she told him of their reverence for him, even though he knew the truth of her words. Apprentices. A dozen of them. He’d never had a single one - he would have to consider carefully how to handle a dozen.

Darcy continued, after his moment of amusement had passed, telling him of Dagmar and Borghild and her thoughts about buildings, timelines, and housing while they start work on securing space for the Embassy enclosure. She continued, vividly describing her hopes for working with an architect and building firm, which led her to tell him of their wonderful ideas concerning the placement of the one Asgardian Embassy on Midgard.

“You really are quite brilliant, my love,” Loki said to her, kissing the back of her head, just under the coronet.

“Well, it was a group effort, really. Your mom is awesome, and I really have a new respect for Jane. You know, before all of this she really was all work and a very dull girl. Turns out she’s an interesting human being, you know? With, like, depth. And ideas outside of All Science, All The Time. I like her.”

Loki laughed. “She is a passionate woman who has found her most keen interest early in her life. Can we resent her for marking her goals and doing everything in her power to achieve them?” He squeezed her gently with both his arms and his legs.

Darcy let out a rueful laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, of course not. What is your most keen interest, Loki? When did you find it?”

He was silent a moment. “I wanted to master magic, and I have. So that is over, now. Since then I have wanted to not be Thor. But that is hardly a worthy goal, now that I consider it.” It was his turn for a rueful laugh.

“Yeah. To not be something. Well, congratulations. You’re already not him. Next?”

After a moment’s thought he replied, his voice softer than intended. “To make my father proud.”

Darcy made a snorting noise, but he couldn’t read her mind on the subject.

“What? You think that not a worthy goal?” It certainly seemed like a noble one from his perspective.

“Dude, Loki. If he’s not already proud of you, he’s a blind idiot.”

Loki snorted. “You are biased, and you have not yet met him,” he replied softly.

“No, seriously. If he hasn’t expressed how proud of you he is, then he’s obviously lacking in the parental department. And if he isn’t actually proud of you, which I seriously doubt, because Frigga would not remain married to a complete numbskull and I’m pretty sure about that, then he has some serious issues to work out, none of which are your problem. And when he wakes up, if you don’t want to have this conversation with him, I sure as hell will.”

Loki laughed and held her to him. “O, Darcy. You cannot fight my battles for me, but I am honored that you would wish to try.”

“Right. So, that goal is also met. Congratulations. You’ve already fulfilled three of your life goals and you’re only ten forty-six. What’s next for His Royal Highness?”

Loki sighed and smiled. He did not honestly know. If he had, he might not have come to Midgard in the first place. “I’m beginning to think that exploring what it means to be your husband is my next goal and it will take quite some time to properly finish. In the meantime, I shall have my fun here on Earth, riding chaos, unravelling the occasional web of lies, and making what mischief you deem worthy of me in my few unoccupied hours.”

Darcy was quiet for a moment, but he could feel the mischief on her, like a frisson on his skin.

“Did you just say, in your very refined way, that your next life goal is to have quite a lot of very frequent sex with me?”

Loki laughed, remembering his own words to her. “O, Darcy, you do see through me, don’t you? Yes. And no. Truly you know how blissful our erotic compatibility makes me. I cannot deny that I do, my heart, daily wish to explore your every fantasy, multiple times, with the fondest hope that your imagination will ever continue to churn out new ones. And do recall that I am a shapeshifter. I’m sure your imagination can find something useful in that.” He was gratified by a thoughtful noise from Darcy, but continued before she could get too distracted. “And also, there is more to being your husband than the exercises of the bedchamber. You are a fascinating, intelligent, insightful woman and you have single handedly taken my whim of diplomacy and turned it into a masterpiece worthy of a master politician far beyond your years. To be _your husband_ on Midgard is to be Ambassador the likes of which I had not intended. I could not possibly _have_ intended it, for I had not your insight, nor your imagination. Tis a gift you give not just to me, or to your own realm, but to all of Yggdrasil. There will be benefit from the marriage of cultures you have instigated here, for all nine realms, and for many, many millennia to come.”

Darcy shifted in his arms and he loosened his hold. She met his eyes and he read the disbelief there.

“You are giving me way too much credit, Mischief & Lies.”

Mischief & Lies.

Lies.

 _Liar_.

He was stunned, utterly shocked. It was the first time she had called him Lies, regardless of her attempt to soften it, and it was not a noble use of the title. It spoke of a betrayal of the promise he had made to her, a promise he would never consciously forswear. Her casual reference felt like a stab to the heart and Loki liked it _not at all._

His right hand abandoned her abdomen and instead held her chin securely as he stared into her eyes. “Do not so lightly accuse me of lying to you, Darcy,” he said, his voice shaking. Her eyes blew wide in shock and he attempted to moderate his tone.

“I have not lied to you, nor have I used the truth to mislead you. I have told you a truth that makes you feel uncomfortable because you do not see yourself or the situation clearly, yet. There is a difference between being unable to believe something I say and accusing me of lying to you. If you must experience the former, kindly refrain from turning it into the latter. As much emotional turmoil as it may cause you, for you to-” but he choked on the words. “For you to render such an accusation, even lightly, is akin to a blade in my very heart.” His voice cracked and he could say no more. He released her chin and looked away to the wall with its fading blue paint. He tried to take a deep breath and found it difficult. He cleared his mind, trying not to think of anything at all, knowing his thoughts would be full of his own tormented and impotent rage.

He was unprepared when Darcy threw her arms around his neck and sobbed out her apologies. Loki held her in silence, his own tears falling into her hair, unseen. And somehow, everytime he’d ever been called a Liar - rightly or wrongly - came back to him, all the little slings and arrows all finding their mark.

She spoke in the midst of her sobbing of how invincible he seemed, how strong, how in control, how she didn’t realize it would hurt him...

He whispered to her, after a while. He tried to speak slowly and clearly so his voice would not crack. “You and you alone hold my heart in your delicate hands, my Darcy, and I assure you, it is not made of stone. It is soft and vulnerable and I beg you to take pains to keep it safe, as I shall endeavor to do for yours.”

“Loki, I love you. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry. I do trust you, I swear I do. It’s just that some of this is so hard to take in, but, but, but I’m sorry.”

Her weeping broke his heart in a different manner, entirely, swallowing his pain and rage away, replacing it with tender aching.

Loki rocked her and spoke softly and sweetly to her.

“It was a mistake, my love. Only a mistake. An error that has been corrected, and that is all. That is all. I believe that you trust me. You have reassured me well enough. And you know now that I would sooner sew my own mouth shut than lie to you about anything, anything at all. It was but a mistake, a mistake on both our parts. You did not know the value of the truth you bring into my life. I did not convey the depth of my devotion to it.

“It was but a mistake, and mistakes are easily corrected. That is all. All shall be well, now, and we both know better the power over the other that we each have, to build up or to break down. All shall be well, my love. All shall be well. I swear to you, all shall be well.”

“Do you still love me?” she whispered, broken, her face cast away from him.

He held her tighter and though he did not turn her face to look at him, his fingers combed through her curls until he could cradle her head.

“O, my darling. I love you. I do. I love you now, and I will love you with my dying breath, and I will love you in all of the moments before that, and all of eternity afterwards. I love you with my heart. I love you with my body. I love you with my spirit. I love you with the entirety of my ineffable self. The pain and rage you see in me are not your fault. It is simply what I carry with me, as you carry your own with you.”

“Will you… Can we…” _‘If we get out of all of these clothes, can you help me get back in them? And fix my hair?’_

He smiled a little, though it did not reach his eyes. “More or less. The clothes are an easy task. Your hair I can cast an illusion over and none will be the wiser, my darling.”

He felt her start when her skin pressed against his without layers of cloth, armor, and weaponry in between. After taking three tissues from the box on her bedside table, she wiggled and scrabbled and shifted until she faced him completely with her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his torso. She buried her face in his neck and continued to sniffle. Loki called forth a soft blanket from his store and wrapped it around them both, tucking it behind his shoulders before he leaned back into the wall.

In stillness and in quiet they held each other, letting the silence and closeness mend something between them that had only but cracked, letting the touch of the other reassure and fill the void that had begun to form in the midst of the pain.

And when, at long last Loki heard the distinctive sound of Jane’s truck outside, he pulled himself and his wife outside of time just long enough for the sweetest kiss they’d yet shared, a brief illusion over her eyes and hair, and the rearrangement of clothes, armor, and weaponry.

And when he saw her sweetness was still overshadowed by sorrow, he laid her down once more on their shared bed and gently lifted her skirts until they were hooked over her knives. He laid his head on her lap, and then down between her thighs and kissed her sweetly again and again until at last she cried out her ecstasy, her love, her devotion, and such promises of kindness to him that made his healed heart sing with hers once more.


	2. Wherein the heads of introverts are fucked with.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki doesn’t always mean to fuck with people’s heads. Sometimes it just happens. Other times it is entirely on purpose.

Everything was fine until the headlights went dim in the dark and desolate desert. The chime of the car dinged again and again until Dad took the keys out of the ignition.

They were about to travel into outer space, to another planet. Briefly. For a wedding. Aiden was so nervous, her stomach was churning and her skin was clammy. Not a good sign. Who knew this would be a moment for a xanax? No, no, she would be fine.

And then the headlamps went out.

Shadows. Horns. Childhood fears of demons in the night. Dull gleam in the sliver of light from the car’s dome light. Armor. Weapons. Whoa. Scary. _Really very scary._

The car doors slam shut, darkness reigned, and the doors in Aiden’s mind slam with them.

The meditative British accent of this alien, telling his story, lulling, calming, pulling, pulling. But don’t trip in the desert. Wear heels to a wedding, yes, but a hike through the desert? When you might need to run away? But how far could you run from _Loki_?

 _It’s okay, Aiden,_ the story seemed to say. _See? Just a normal guy, just normal childhood hijinks. Back when he was a hundred._

“Twelve,” a distracted part of her said. It was the part that could memorize and return facts without checking in with Aiden’s emotions, or her hindbrain. The former had checked out as hysterical. The latter had checked in as fight or flight. Her analytical self said something else, but it wasn’t important.

The story continued, regardless of Aiden’s mounting fear, her pounding heart. Goat’s horns? Goats aren’t scary. Goats will eat your shirt and give you milk and cheese in return. Maybe he’s not scary? Maybe.

Blinding light. More armor. More weapons. More alien warriors. One bowing to her. One sweeping her off her feet. Heart pounding. _Heart pounding!_ Adrenaline rush. Fight! Or flight! But pick one! Right the hell now!

No, stay still. Keep it together, Aiden. Oh, God. Horns approaching. Touching her head. Just a goat. Not scary. Right? Darcy trusts him. Darcy trusts him. _Darcy trusts him!_

Stomach calms, body instantly notes. All else remains the same.

Heart pounding, pounding, _pounding_. White light all around, pulling, flying, trapped by the alien warrior. Gasping for air. Can’t breathe in. Need inhaler. Inhaler in purse. Purse in hand. Hand in wormhole, frozen in fear.

Can’t inhale.

Can’t inhale.

_Can’t inhale._

Landed. Put down. Sunk to knees. Fumbled with purse. Lost a shoe. Inhaler. Inhaler. _Inhaler_.

Albuterol sulfate. Each actuation delivers 108 mcg of albuterol sulfate equivalent to 90 mcg of albuterol base from the mouthpiece. Count of ten.

Head bowed. Humiliation at bay until breathing recommences.

Shake it again. One more time. _Please, please, please open my lungs._

Albuterol sulfate. Each actuation delivers 108 mcg of albuterol sulfate equivalent to 90 mcg of albuterol base from the mouthpiece. Count of ten.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Austin, next to her on the ground, with her missing shoe. Little brother. Golden ground. Black three inch pump.

Welcome to Asgard, Doctor Aiden Lewis.

_Die of embarrassment._

* * *

Aiden stepped from the truck and rounded the front of it. She waited at the door to the diner for Jane, Darcy’s teenaged boss, to get her wallet from the back. There were only a few lights on, and the sign on the door said ‘CLOSED Come again!’ but when Jane came around, she knocked on the glass door and waved to the woman inside.

Aiden watched, bemused. There was so much to take in, but Jane was so normal. Very chatty, but most people were chattier than Aiden. Certainly everyone in the family was. Jane felt very… comforting in that way. To just let Jane’s chatter flow over her was… nice. Making conversation was the worst when Aiden actually had to hold up her end of it.

“Brenda! Oh, my gosh, you guys are so wonderful to take our order! Thank you so much. We really owe you one.”

Apparently, Jane was chatty with everyone. And it was getting them dinner after the place was closed, so clearly there’s some merit in the practice, even though Aiden herself sucked at it.

“Honey, you must have come from one hell of a costume party. Come on in. All your food’s ready. Got enough to feed the Chinese Army. Want a couple of pies? We’ve got two left tonight.”

Food sounded like a really good idea. Normally after a panic attack Aiden was nauseous and vomiting, but not this time. Whatever Loki did was damn good and Aiden really wanted to know what it was. And how long it lasted. And under what conditions it would be useful. And if there were any side effects. And on what percentage of people it was usually effective. And what percentage of time it was efficacious. And on how many different species of sentient bipeds it was efficacious. And if it only affected her nausea. (It clearly wasn’t helpful for the rest of the symptoms of her panic attack.)

“Oh, sure!” Jane said, “Throw them in. Actually, it was kind of a theme wedding. Crazy, beautiful, very cool. My intern got married. You remember Darcy, right?”

“Sure, sure, the cute one with glasses. She marry that hunk that’s been around the last couple of days? The English one?”

“She really did, Brenda.”

“Aw, that’s nice. They make a real cute couple. Reminds me of my nephew and his girlfriend. Just a real cute couple. So a theme wedding, huh? And how you wanna pay for this, honey?”

Aiden watched as Jane fumbled in her purse, muttering to herself.

“Where did I put it? Where did I put it? Oh, Darcy will kill me if I’ve lost his already.”

The waitress ran the credit card once Jane located it, interestingly, not in her wallet, but then held it out and whistled.

“Woooeee! Never seen one of these things before. And who’s this _Loki of Asgard_?”

“Darcy’s new husband. I promised to grab the food for them. But I swear I have permission to use it.”

“Oh, honey, I believe you. And I know where you live if I need to track you down. Now, sign here, and remember you owe me one as you think about that tip. You need a hand out to the car?”

“Sure!”

Jane stared at the bill for a second, then scribbled on the receipt and put the card away, muttering about remembering where she put it this time. It was the back zip pocket of her purse, Aiden noted. Just in case.

“Are you sure we need this much food?” Aiden asked Jane quietly.

Brenda the waitress laughed as she grabbed two bags and then held the door open for Aiden with the pies, and Jane with yet more food. “I guess you’ve never seen that boy of Darcy’s eat, huh? He sure can pack it away. Must have a hollow leg. Worse than a teenager. Metabolism, probably. Don’t have any, myself. I can look a slice of pie and gain weight. Just by looking, mind. Alright,” she said, putting the bags of food on the floor of the back of the truck, next to the canvas bag of flowers. “Let’s go get the second round.”

“Hey, you want some help?” Aiden heard Austin call from behind them.

“Sure, now you ask,” Aiden replied as he jogged forward. He’d handled himself so well when when they’d first arrived on that planet. God, Austin was just so kind and gentle. If Aiden could develop half the bedside manner her EMT brother had, she’d be content. A quarter, even, would be enough. When he'd seen that she could breathe again, he had gently pulled her inhaler out of her hand to see how many more pumps she had left on her counter. He stowed it in her bag silently and pulled out her xanax. Asked her if she could dry swallow and pushed a pill through the back of the pack. He handed it to her without speaking, just rubbing her back. As she kneeled on the floor, wondering if Darcy was going to come in at any moment, Austin just rubbed her back, whispering to her that she was going to be okay, calling her Aidie. He helped her to her feet when she was ready, held his cell phone out in front of her with the camera on reverse so she could fix her makeup. Then and only then did Loki cross the space and ask after her health. She was grateful that he’d held off, and she gave him the only answer she could. She was fine. Everything was fine. It was always just fine. Except when it wasn’t.

When Brenda greeted Austin it knocked Aiden out of her memories. “Oh, hi there. So I guess you went to the wedding but missed the theme?” Brenda asked Austin as she held the door for both of them, and Jane as she made her way back in, too.

“Yep,” Austin replied. “Felt totally underdressed, too. Oh, wow, smells great.”

“Thank you. Now one more load, I think,” Brenda said.

They grabbed more bags of food and hauled it out to the truck. Aiden couldn’t help but think about the incongruity of it all. This tiny little desert town. Good, homey, rural folk. An ancient, sorcerous, alien, warrior prince eating at the diner. Eating a lot, as it turns out.

“You have a good night, now!” the owner of the diner called to them as she walked back to the door.

“Thanks, Brenda. You, too,” Jane said, pleasantly.

“How much farther? Mom’s being a pain,” Austin whined, and Aiden was briefly relieved that she hadn’t had to deal with their mother when she was in one of her moods.

Jane perked up as they walked around to the front of the truck. “Oh, it’s only, like, a two minute drive from here. If you want to stretch your legs, why don’t you walk? Go straight down this street and then turn left on Maple. We’re at the end of Maple - you can’t miss the gas station. And you’ve been there. It’ll take you five minutes. Seven, if you drag your feet.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Jane. Thanks,” Austin said and wandered back to the car, undoubtedly to tell Dad.

They settled into the silence of the truck and Aiden realized this might be her last quiet moment with Jane.

“This has all been kind of crazy,” Aiden started softly, “but would you mind if I talked with you sometime about the medical implications of what you’ve witnessed on Asgard? I… I have about four and a half years left on my residency, but I’d really like to be involved, if I can.”

“No, totally! Here, wait, let me dig out my phone. Uh, hold on.” Aiden watched as she flipped open one of the two wooden boxes and stared at the books inside, while murmuring to herself. “Now. Where would they have put my cell phone? In with clothes? The purse was easy to find. Should I just sit here and search? No. Food’s getting cold. Huh. Bag. Bag. Bag. Bag. Bag. Bag. Bag,” she said, looking around the interior of the truck before taking down a cotton sack and carefully dumping out the contents into a corner. Aiden watched as Jane muttered softly to herself and took something small from the lid and put it in the bag. She held her hand in it for a moment and pulled out her cell phone. She tossed the bag into the corner, fiddled with the interior of the lid of the wooden box and shut it with a satisfied noise.

“I officially love magic. There. I said it. I love magic and I have a PhD in astrophysics. The two are not mutually exclusive."

Jane handed Aiden her phone. “Here. Take this and call yourself.” She made her way to the front of the truck and slid behind the wheel. “That way you’ll have my number. Things should be pretty quiet while Darcy and Loki are away on their honeymoon, which I’m about to start encouraging them to take, like, immediately in the great hopes that they’ll get some of their extreme horniness out of their system, and I’ve got a lot of planning to do, but really, I’ve got a lot of time to do it in. And honestly, I’d love to have someone to bounce some ideas off of who is actually in a different scientific field than I am. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love physics. But really, if we can get the Institute to the place where we’ve bridged the understanding gap between science and magic? Seriously, there are implications for every single field.”

No one had said anything about her panic attack, and Aiden was grateful, but she wanted to share what little observations she had about the small amount of magic that had been done to her.

“Loki did something before we left, touched my forehead. It took my nausea away.”

“Yeah, he did that to me, too. And Darcy. I guess it’s only travelling the first time on the Bifrost that does that, but he was super sweet about it. But wait, you were nauseous before? Are you okay?”

“I, um. Yeah. I’m okay. This is all just a little much to take in. But, I’m glad I’m here,” Aiden hastened to add. Really, she would have hated herself if she’d skipped Darcy’s wedding, just out of spite. What kind of older sister would that have made her? A really, pathetically awful one. Still, she was glad Darcy didn’t know about the panic attack. Maybe she’d tell her later. If it came up naturally. In a few years.

“Och! You’re telling me! Twelve hours on Asgard with Frigga - Darcy’s mother-in-law - who is this amazingly zen four thousand year old sorcerer queen who has just been planning this day for centuries, and I have so much information it’s going to take me days to just parse it out. Oh, we’re here! Okay. Hopefully the lovebirds are fully clothed. Because, yeah. Okay. Right. Food.”

Aiden smiled a little, trying to imagine Loki as Jane knew him. A beneficent, beautiful, scientific savior. It almost got the image of an horrific desert demon with horns out of her head. Almost.

* * *

Clint Barton loved his job. There was some seriously weird shit out there and he loved watching how other people reacted to it. Some people ran away from it. Some people studied it. Some people shot it in the head. And some people, apparently, had a lot of sex with it, then eloped with it.

It’s not like this particular 084 was hard on the eyes. Heck, if the guy had an available sister, Barton might be willing to consider giving up on his decades-long crush on his favorite mistake. But, then again, he wasn’t really the type to have that reaction to weird shit. He preferred to study it. Usually from afar. Though he would shoot it in the eye, given the right orders.

He quietly unwrapped another hard shelled taco - chicken, hot, extra cheese - and watched the scene unfold before him. They were bringing a kitchen table and chairs outside and doing some rearranging with the existing picnic table and benches. They put the setup right in the middle of the Harry Potter Day-Glo Magic Circle of Doom By Ax. Whoop, then 084 turned the lights on. And no one found that eerie? Well, maybe it was just him.

“Hawk, report,” the tiny voice of Coulson sounded in his left ear, with the combination hearing aid/comm device.

Barton glanced down to look at his tablet where the audio transcription was, not that the lovebirds were saying much just now.

“Well, we’ve got the research van and one of the rental cars returning. All accounted for except… we’re missing Brother, but… no, wait, he hoofed it from somewhere near by, I can see him walking up Maple. I’d say the diner, but it’s closed. 084 and Intern - that’s a crappy code name, by the way. In fact all but one are totally crappy, who’s responsible for that, I’d like to know--”

“Focus, Hawk.”

“You know it’s true,” he murmured, knowing he’d be heard. “I’ve had eyes on for the last two and a half hours since they left, and 084 and Intern never walked back in, so I’m going with the theory that Mr. Potter apparated, probably directly into the bedroom, which I bet you twenty bucks is still radio silent no matter the upgrades we’ve done. Loverboy clearly wants private things to stay private.”

“You are unusually chatty tonight, Hawk. Everything okay?” Coulson asked, and Barton could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“It’s the tacos. I really like tacos.”

“I’ll remember that. Keep me posted.”

“Yep.”

After a few minutes of radio silence, “You want some more tacos?”

“Yep.”

He took another bite and glanced down at the tablet. Blah, blah, blah. Greetings all around. Bringing all the food out. Ooo, now that was interesting.

“084’s doing more day-glo lantern magic for their dining pleasure, except this time he’s utilizing the entire color spectrum, beyond that creepy-ass pale green. Nope, they’re all yellow, now. Oh, hey, he’s making the entire circle of doom by ax yellow. Still a circle of doom, but really, much more inviting now.”

“Do we really need the feng shui commentary, Hawkeye?” Coulson asked.

“You want eyes, I’m giving you eyes. 084 isn’t overtly planning world domination, or actively seducing the Mrs. He’s really just using god-knows how much magical power to decorate a table. I shit you not. I couldn’t make this stuff up. You know I have no imagination. Dinner looks good, by the way. I’m counting on those tacos, or I may have to go crash a wedding reception just so I don’t starve to death.”

Radio silence.

Barton glanced down to the tablet briefly, but no one was saying anything particularly interesting, so he ignored it for a while. If he spent too much time glancing between the tablet and his target in the far distance he was going to have a hell of a headache by the end of dinner, despite the exercises he did for his eyes, daily. Besides, he was more interested in their body language than what they were actually saying. And they were just out of range for him to read their lips accurately, anyway.

Mom’s a bit huffy. Wonder why? Barton would have thought that a child becoming royalty would be pretty acceptable to the average American mom. Dad’s clearly playing referee. Brother and Sister are distancing themselves from the parental units, but that’s the story of most kids in most places, so nothing new there. Hmm. Interesting. Sister is trying to get as far away from both Mother and 084 as possible, while still staying at the table. So not everyone’s drunk the Kool-Aide, then?

Barton glanced down to the tablet and swiped back a bit to see if something had been said that would explain Sister’s reaction to 084. Nope. Nothing. No off-color joke, no rude remark. Hmm. Not something he’d done just now, then. Barton looked back up, and yep. Sister didn’t want to be near Mom, but she didn’t want to be too close to 084, either. Very closed off posture. Not a happy camper, Sister.

What happened in the desert, 084?

Whoa, shit. _Shit_.

“084 just looked directly at me. I think I’ve been made. Should I pull out?”

“Hawk, don’t be ridiculous. You’re three hundred yards away.”

“Papa Bear, I’m telling you, 084 looked directly at me. We had eye contact. He gave me a bemused look. I gave him a startled one. We practically had a moment, and then I dropped my taco and hit the deck.”

Barton grabbed the tablet and scrolled back to see if whatever had just happened had interrupted his targets and their conversation. Apparently not.

“Hold position. Let’s give them a few minutes. You following the transcript, now, Hawk?”

“Affirmative,” Barton responded, slightly disappointed to only be reading dialogue. Apparently Intern was answering rapid fire questions from Brother. No, now Stargazer was chiming in. Boring, boring, boring. And his taco was a lost cause, all spilled out on the rooftop gravel. Happily he had one more in the bag before he had to desperately wait for Jones to get up here. Probably at least another seventeen minutes. Unless he was pulled out by then. Which was totally possible.

Shit, how did that happen? How was he suddenly made? Dammit. _Dammit_.

Could 084 hear them? Well, anything was possible. They only knew that 084 was more physically advanced than the average human, but they knew nothing about his actual limitations. But no, Barton hadn’t been speaking, and Coulson had been quiet, too. No, no, he’d just been watching and doing analysis. Normal stuff. And 084 hadn’t been doing visual scans, not even casually. When he made Barton, he looked directly at him. Sharp, like someone would if he’d just said something offensive, or something. And right in the eyes, too.

Okay Barton, go over it again.

Radio silence.

He was eating a taco.

He’d been on visual only.

He was doing systems analysis. - Where was he in the analysis?

Okay. He’d gone past Mom and Dad. He hadn’t started on Brother, Intern or Stargazer yet. Sister. He was noticing Sister’s body language. Right. He was wondering what 084 had done to piss off Sister in the desert. Should he mention--

Panic attack.

Wait, shit, now he was making stuff up. There’s no way he could know that.

 _Well, no,_ said a mental voice that Barton was startled to realize... might not be his own. A chill ran down his spine. _You couldn’t know it. That’s why I told you._

The mental voice seemed to have a British accent.

And sounded like a very particular 084. One whose limits hadn’t yet been defined.

_And may never be, if I have my way, Agent Hawkeye._

Barton broke out into a cold sweat and wondered if he should report in. Yeah, no. And be instantly pulled for a pysch eval. No, he’d need proof, at least something slightly more substantial than wandering thoughts.

 _How silly you are, Agent Rooftop. How can I possibly provide anything of the kind with you hiding as you are?_ a voice said in Barton’s head.

He swallowed and wondered if it was more nuts to wonder if other people were participating in your own mental commentary, or to actually ask them about it.

_You have not gone insane. But my new sister did have a panic attack, which I really don’t think was my fault, at all._

You don’t think? Barton couldn’t help but to rebutt. Why don’t you just read her mind and find out?

_Not all are so clear and open to me, Rooftop. Besides, that would be a gross invasion of her privacy, even if I could._

And this isn’t? Barton thought hotly, even as his eyes were idly on the transcript which was about a two hour massage, apparently.

 

> | 084: (LAUGHS, INTERRUPTING CONVERSATION)
> 
> | INTERN: MISCHIEF, WHAT ARE YOU UP TO, NOW? OKAY, FINE, BUT I WANT TO HEAR EVERY SINGLE THING IN PLAY-BY-PLAY FORMAT LATER. GOOD GRIEF, YOU KNOW MOVIE REFERENCES BUT NOT FOOTBALL?
> 
> | 084: (STILL LAUGHING SOFTLY)
> 
> | BROTHER: OH, DUDE, WE SO HAVE TO CATCH YOU UP.

Barton blinked. Wait. Were you laughing at me?

_Isn’t it obvious, Rooftop? You express your indignancy at my invasion of your privacy even whilst you and yours invade that of me and mine? Wouldn’t **you** find that hilarious? You seem to have a reasonably decent sense of humor. Though perhaps not a sense of fair play. Really. Attempting to listen in our bedchamber? How very low of you. Unless you know not how to pleasure a woman, in which case you have my sympathy, but still not my cooperation._

I need something concrete before I can take this to my superiors.

_Well, then. It behooves me to give you no satisfaction whatsoever, doesn’t it?_

Oh, you asshole.

 

> | 084: (LAUGHS, INTERRUPTING CONVERSATION)
> 
> | INTERN: MISCHIEF, REALLY. REALLY? OKAY. OKAY!
> 
> | BROTHER: WELL, I GUESS IT WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN. I MEAN THEY HAVEN’T KISSED IN LIKE THIS WHOLE TIME SO FAR. I THINK THAT’S A RECORD.
> 
> | STARGAZER: IT’S TOTALLY A RECORD.
> 
> | SISTER: IT’S SWEET.
> 
> | INTERN: WE’RE RIGHT HERE.
> 
> | BROTHER: AND THEY’RE GONE AGAIN. I MEAN, THEY’RE HERE, BUT NOT REALLY HERE. NOT WHEN THEY’RE LIP LOCKED LIKE THAT, YOU KNOW?
> 
> | STARGAZER: ANYWAY. SO LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE TOTALLY AWESOME TRUNK THAT FREGUH GAVE ME. AIDEN’S SEEN IT, A BIT, BUT YOU HAVE TO CHECK THIS OUT, SERIOUSLY.

You complete asshole.

Barton was silent for several moments, not moving a muscle, no longer looking at the transcript, and was focusing his mind and his gaze on his shoe to keep from randomly thinking about other things.

But there was nothing else.

You utter and complete asshole. Say something.

Nothing. Nothing for a very long time. Barton still stared at his shoe, steaming.

“Hawk, pull out. Back to base. Your tacos are here.”

Well, that was totally fucking infuriating. Barton jammed his gear back into his pack, wondering if maybe he’d been on too many back-to-back missions, or if life in the fast lane was just catching up with him. Or if maybe the royal magical ambassador from Mars was having a hoot fucking with his head.

_The latter. Definitely the latter. Enjoy your tacos, Agent Rooftop._

Fucking asshole!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last section with Clint? That's my husband's favorite section so far. Hope you enjoyed it all!


	3. Wherein Jane makes a discovery.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane’s discovery may not shock the reader, but it certainly shocked her. And, really, everyone else at the table.

Darcy was enjoying the sensation of being surrounded by her family and kissing the daylights out of Loki at the same time. It was like having your cake and eating it, too. Mom was in a snit, but that was to be expected - that was her standard response whenever Darcy threw her for a loop, but she’d work it out in a day or two and call and apologize. Aiden was warming up nicely and Austin of course was holding his own. Jane was a revelation - lightyears away from the woman she knew last week, this Jane Foster was happy, outgoing, and really just a great hostess.

And Mischief seemed to be having all the fun he could generate.

 _‘We are overheard, but I am wreaking delightful havok. Do let me have my fun, and say nothing on the subject.’_ Written in glowing green English in mid-air after the first time Mischief burst out laughing for no particular reason. The second time he just smirked and reached over, pulling Darcy into his lap and kissing her for all he was worth.

Which was awesome. And then she returned the favor. Which brought her back to the present moment; in the lap of the crown prince, vaguely aware of Jane showing off her trunk and her mother admitting to being tired. With half an ear Darcy heard that Jane was offering her mom the guest bedroom, but yeah.

Loki.

Dear God, his tongue…

Maybe they shouldn’t quite be making out like this in front of everyone. Well, not like they were grinding on each other, well, no, okay they was a tiny bit at this point.

Mischief, I think we need to tone it down just a bit. But I do like my new perch. And can you make your knives conveniently disappear? Okay, thanks. It’s never really comfortable to sit on them,  you know?

Darcy shifted a little after breaking the kiss, and felt Loki shift his legs underneath her so she could be both comfortable and supported while sitting across his lap. She pulled her plate of food over and kept nibbling, even as her husband - _**HER HUSBAND! OMG SHE WAS MARRIED TO THE MOST AMAZING MAN ON EARTH! OR ANYWHERE ELSE!** _ \- kept steadily eating his volume of food.

Darcy cradled her cup of coffee with her right hand and kept sipping as she dreamily watched her siblings and her dad interact with her boss - was she still her boss? Well for a little while longer, anyway. But Jane was firmly in the friend category now, too.

Darcy had her left arm around Loki’s neck. She sighed and looked out and up to see what stars she could see. They weren’t in a big city, but there were plenty of lights around, so it’s not like she could see the Milky Way. But it was pretty. And kind of calming.

In a way, the Universe had just gotten a heck of a lot bigger for Darcy. There was just so much more out there than she’d actually thought there would be. Star Trek was all well and good, and it was responsible for microwaves and cellphones, which was awesome, but it was still just a story. But the good, the bad, and the ugly - it was all out there. And there was a heck of a lot more of it than she’d even suspected, like, last week.

And in a way, the Universe had just gotten way smaller for Darcy. Everywhere she’d been that she could remember clearly was just as far away as the door back into the gas station. And a planet outside of the solar system was just a few steps farther than that. Paris was still farther away, since she’d never been there, but once she made a mental anchor there, it wouldn’t be that far away anymore.

The change in even how to think about travelling was strange. And was there a strategic advantage to not having it widely known that she could teleport? Or Loki, for that matter, though SHIELD would know that by now. They couldn’t not know.

And wow. Trying to keep track of how much other people know about your secrets was tough. And how much they might have figured out, based on clues that they might or might not have seen and understood. How on earth did Loki manage it?

Darcy sipped some more coffee - regular, as she wanted to stay up as long as possible and make this night last forever, if she could - and let her thoughts slide along. She grinned to realize that she could nip back to her bedroom at home and get more clothes. But really, her wardrobe was going to need that overhaul, once they got back from the honeymoon. Or maybe shopping at a decent mall could be part of it? Hmm. If it was convenient, maybe.

She was going to need a whole host of big girl professional clothes. And pretty clothes. Lord, she was going to have to find a big girl look, wasn’t she? Something beyond Disaffected Millennial Hipster. Aiden. She could talk to Aiden about that. Suits would probably be involved. But at least she could afford really nice ones that fit her well and didn’t make her feel like she was borrowing someone else’s clothes for an interview.

But, hey! She could totally clean out her bedroom - and the attic! - and just put everything in the Epic Trunk of Holding. That was going to be awesome.

 _‘Darcy. I’m casting an illusion for privacy,’_ she heard quite clearly in her head. She blinked at the stars and wondered if Loki could have been speaking to her telepathically all this time.

“It’s time to focus, darling,” he whispered to her.

Darcy looked back to the table, wondering what was going on.  What had she missed?

Okay. Everyone was staring at Jane. Well, except her mother, who was inside laying down. But everyone else was staring at Jane. Who was seated at the table, with her trunk open in front of her, and her hands half inside, holding--

“That looks familiar,” Darcy pointed out, her brain just a tiny bit slow on the uptake.

Jane was holding a tiara. It did, in fact, look exactly like the tiara-crown thing that Darcy was currently wearing. Why would that be?

Everyone was silent.

Minutes ticked by until finally Dad broke it.

“I’m confused. Loki, is polygamy practiced on Asgard?”

“No,” he said quietly.

Jane looked over to Darcy’s husband, her face an essay of mounting horror.

After several tense moments, she spoke, her voice cracking. “I will not have my life dictated to me by anyone. Not even your mother.”

What? What? What?

“She did not mean you to find it. She could not have,” he said, his voice totally calm.

Wait, what?

Wait, did Dad mean that Loki would...

“Is this why…” Jane didn’t finish her statement, but she seemed to be shaking with rage. She threw the crown back into the trunk and gestured at it all.

“No. That is not how Frigga is. Everything she told you was true, I’m sure it was. If she did not tell you the whole truth, it was because she was unable to, and not for any other reason.”

Darcy was reeling, trying to get her feet under her in this conversation.

Loki, on the other hand, seemed to know _exactly_ what was going on. That seemed noteworthy, somehow. Okay. Back up. Use your brain, Darce.

So, Jane and her family were playing around in her trunk and they found a crown.

It was a matching crown to her own. A princess crown, if you will.

Which Jane obviously wouldn’t get for being Frigga’s favorite scientist. But might if she married… well, someone. Into the family, kind of thing. Become a princess, kind of thing. But who was there to marry? Loki was taken. There was only one other son. Thor. Thor?

The thought bounced around in Darcy’s head, and generally did not compute.

_Thor?_

_The gullible one?_

_Thor and Jane?_

_No, couldn’t be..._

“Aiden, can I borrow your purse?” Jane asked tonelessly, without even looking in the woman’s direction.

“Sure,” she said, and handed it over.

Darcy watched as Jane put the trunk’s token in Aiden’s purse, and pulled out… well, shit.

A super long travelling token, that matched the one on Darcy’s arm. That Darcy got ostensibly because she was going to have _children_. And, you know, need to move her family around.

Well, shit.

Darcy put down her coffee cup, and it seemed to break a spell of silence. All at once people around the table began speaking.

“So, your brother, Thor,” her father started, addressing Loki. “Is he, well... I mean, what’s he like, again?”

“Holy shit, Jane,” Austin breathed, addressing Jane. “Um, congratulations?”

“What’s going on?” Aiden asked, in general. “Everybody knows what’s going on but me, right?”

“Too good to be true, too good to be true,” Jane was saying, shaking her head, her face looking mutinous.

Only Loki kept his peace.

In a momentary lull, Darcy piped up. “So... what now?”

“Now? Now I have a few words for Frigga,” Jane said angrily, throwing the rope like token into the box with the crown. She pulled the token out of Aiden’s beaded handbag and thrust it back into the trunk’s lid.

“No. You mustn’t. No, you misunderstand me, Dr. Foster. You have just had a shocking revelation which has left you quite angry and frustrated, and understandably so. I say nothing about your reaction. Only that you must not bring your concerns to Frigga. She did not mean you to find it, though it is quite obviously meant to be yours.”

Darcy watched with wide eyes as Jane slammed the trunk shut and tossed it off the table. Everyone was quite quiet as Jane shifted on her bench seat and faced Loki. Darcy decided that this would be a great moment to get off Loki’s lap and retake her own seat, which she did with a surprising amount of grace, given the weapons belt and the floor length gown involved.

Clearly, it was all fun and games until you discovered why the Queen liked you so much. But it wasn’t like she was some sort of sacrificial lamb or something, right? I mean, obviously, no one would force Jane to marry anyone else, right?

So what? Essentially, Jane had discovered that she was going to get married. Well, okay. Most people generally assumed that it might occur in their lifetime, and most people hoped it would be a really pleasant experience. So she met a seer who knew she was going to get married, and married into her family? This is… horrible news?

“Oh?” Jane asked acerbically, waiting for Loki to elaborate.

Darcy was still confused. Sort of. Maybe there was something she was missing?

“Don’t you see, she cannot discuss it. It is not a small technicality for her. _She cannot discuss it. At all. With anyone. Ever. Until it is already come to pass._ That is not just an arbitrary rule for her. It is simply how it is. And it is the thing that keeps her from tipping into madness, where so many seers have gone before. I know not what would happen if you were to press the issue with her, but I know that it would not gain you what you wish. Only pain would come of it, and how much I do not know.”

Jane screamed a mindless yell of frustration, bringing her clenched fists down hard onto the table. Everything rattled and jumped on the table, and everyone around the table jumped a little, too. _**“Why do you have to be so reasonable?”**_ she yelled, her face contorted with anger.

“Because this is what it means to bear responsibility, Jane Foster,” Loki said calmly. “It means that you face what you are given, and learn the lessons that are available for the learning, without attempting to exchange your fate for one you imagine to be brighter. In truth, it is not possible to bargain with fate. Your life is the one you’re living, and that is all. Frigga’s fate is to know the fate of others, not to create it herself. She can do nothing for you, not even console you.”

“How would you know? Have you ever tried?” Jane asked, still seething with anger.

“Yes.”

Silence.

Shock.

Oh, dear.

Darcy reached out to take Loki’s hand and wondered what he could possibly say, and what it would cost him to say it.

“Only mad seers say anything of what they see,” he began gently. “They are never wrong, though they are not usually right in a way that can be clearly understood in advance. When I was barely able to hold my own, younger than your apprentices will be, a mad seer told me things about my fate that no young person should have to bear, much less bear alone. I went to my mother. Not because she was a seer, but because she was my mother. She could not respond to me in anyway at all. She was like… a ghost. I think, with hindsight, it nearly drove her mad, those few moments with me, when she struggled to have any reasonable, comforting reaction to her utterly distraught young son. Which she could not have, as it would inevitably either confirm or deny the prophecy. She fled the room and had to send my father to me. When I was finally sensible, he spoke to me words I have never forgotten. He said, _‘You cannot know the person you will be, nor the true circumstances under which your fate will come to pass. You cannot shirk your fate, nor avoid it in anyway. The only thing you can do is work in every moment between now and then to become the very best man you can be, so that when the time comes you will be more than ready, and your very character will make the determinations that no one may foresee. And in the end, my son, all shall be well. If it is not well,  you are not yet finished.’”_  

Darcy was crying. Jane had tears in her eyes.

“Jane Foster, it is not certain that you will marry my brother, Thor. It is has been foreseen that you will marry into our family, that far we know. But that may be our son. Or… I suppose... if Darcy were to die, we might marry, but truly, I do not anticipate--” his voice broke. “I do not anticipate being able to do such a thing,” he said in a whisper.

Loki looked over to Darcy then, and the pain in his eyes was laid bare to her.

Darcy sniffed and squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere, Loki,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. She tried to smile. “But if I die way before you do, of course you should marry anyone you decide you need to, for whatever reason makes sense to you. But at least for now, and since we don’t know any differently, let’s assume I’ve got a lot more years in me, okay?”

Loki silently slid from his chair at the end of the picnic table and fell to his knees before her on the dusty red earth. He laid his head on her lap and just lay there, crumpled into kind of a heap, still holding her left hand in his right.

_‘I don’t deserve you. But I adore you, Darcy. I will adore you with my dying breath. There will be no other for me, love. How could there be? And the thought of losing you, for whatever reason, in whatever circumstances, even honorably in battle… Oh, Darcy. Don’t leave me. To contemplate your death strikes at my very heart, my beloved. I cannot bear it. I cannot bear it.’_

She ran the fingers of her right hand through Loki’s short cropped hair and scritched her nails along his scalp. Her brain skittered away from thoughts of her own death. Such things were hard to look at in the eye. She earmarked the prophecy Loki had obliquely mentioned about himself for a later conversation, and then wondered if she really wanted to ask. Well, if he wanted to talk about it, she wanted to hear it. But now for the matter at hand, she thought to herself.

_I’m not going anywhere, she thought to him. I’m right here. I haven’t died. I told you it was my goal for the summer and you, buddy, promised me that I wouldn’t die this summer. Still holding you to it. And as for the rest of my life? Who knows? But I promise to spend it with you._

Darcy looked bleakly out to her family, tears rolling down her face. She noticed Aiden’s hand on Jane’s back, rubbing slowly like she would do for Darcy when she was upset as a child.

Jane sniffed again and Jack offered her his handkerchief.

“I’m sorry I lost my shit,” she said softly after a long while of quiet. “The thought that I’m not in control of my own life is terrifying. I mean…” she trailed off. “When it was Darcy, it was different. Frigga was talking about how she planned for her Midgardian daughter-in-law for some four hundred years, but that was okay, because I mean, look at the two of them. They’re meant for each other. They’re obviously in love. They complement each other. They… I just…” Jane trailed off, misery written on her face.

Darcy responded. “If you had asked me last week if I’d marry anyone at all, before, oh, I don’t know, I introduced them to my family, or known them for more than six months, or before I graduated college, I would have laughed in your face. If some fortune teller had told me that I’d marry outside of my species and I actually believed her, I would have had a total freak out. And if someone I trusted were to actually give me details? I mean, about Loki? I mean, seriously. I probably would have committed suicide.” Austin gasped. “No seriously. Life hasn’t always been chocolate and roses and I have more than just a few self-esteem issues. Before I knew Loki and knew his compassion and his love, there is no way I could have imagined I would measure up to that. I couldn’t have possibly imagined how me and him would end up being a good thing. Better to end it on my own terms.”

Well, Darcy never thought she’d actually admit to her teenaged suicidal ideation out loud. To anyone, much less her family. Funny how she could totally think of her own death, so long as she was in charge of it…

“So, yeah. I can see how learning about a prophecy too early could really fuck with your head. I mean, the woman who met Loki in the desert wasn’t the same girl who started out at Culver a few years ago. I’m a different person, and who knows how I’ll manage to grow and change in the coming years? Who knows what fate I’m capable of tackling with a grin and a sense of humor, when it’s time for me to do it? I mean, I can be a real nit-wit sometimes, but that’s not who I really am. Not really. And before, I didn’t have heaps of good reasons to try and be the better person I know I really can be. I certainly do, now. Who knows what Thor is really capable of? Who he really is, underneath the part of him that needs to grow the hell up. We’ve all needed to grow the hell up at some point or another.”

“I’m so proud of you, Darcy,” her father said, and when she looked over to him, there were tears in his eyes, too. “I’m so glad you didn’t succumb to the pain,” he said quietly, his voice hitching.

Darcy smiled grimly just as Loki stirred from her lap. His face was tear stained, but then four of the six at the table were. His free hand rose to cup her face and his thumb stroked through the tears that were just, sort of, well, still falling, really.

“My beautiful wife,” he said softly. “I love you for who you are now and for who you hope to be. You have nothing to fear from me. And I will keep you safe from all else. I promise you.”

“I know,” Darcy said, after clearing her throat. “I love you, too.” She felt like she ought to offer something else, like verbal evisceration for any of his enemies or something, but the moment had passed.

Loki grinned.

Well, maybe it hadn’t.

Darcy looked up when Jane blew her nose and sighed. “All the same. Hurry up and have children, okay? I still think I could deal with the unknown entity of your son a whole lot better than the thought of your brother.”

Darcy huffed out a sorry excuse for laughter.

Loki raised himself up and stood behind  her, looking back at the table and everyone seated there. He held both of his hands at her shoulders and she could feel the slight weight of him through her armor. “Jane Foster, may it bring you consolation to know that you are the very last person I have ever beheld whom I would anticipate holding the interest of my brother.”

“Well, that’s something, at least.” Jane sighed. “Okay, silver lining: I have a travelling token. You’ll put that on me later, right? Because if I have to deal with this, I might as well deal with this at my mother’s house.”

Darcy craned her neck to look directly above herself. Loki nodded.

Jane sighed again, longer and more dramatically. “Ugh! We’ve gotta do something to clear the air! Loki? I was telling Aiden earlier about watching you train. I don’t suppose you would mind…”

Loki shrugged. It was funny to see it, upside down. “Such a display will certainly calm my mind, though it’s not clear to me what benefit it brings for you.”

Darcy patted one of his hands. “Different strokes for different folks, honey. Jane, let’s get some more chairs. Baby, you wanna make the tables disappear?”

* * *

Darcy’s family left at an ungodly hour in the morning, and the three remaining souls in the gas station had a day of sleeping late and going to the diner for breakfast at four in the afternoon, after which the lovebirds disappeared and Jane started a new set of plans and timelines. Not wanting to actually have to interrupt them, Jane texted Darcy to request a day of planning for tomorrow, and then politely suggested that they get the hell out of Dodge and go on their honeymoon, already.

At the end of the day of planning, Jane was confident that she would have two weeks worth of useful work in front of her, without having to wait for anyone else. Loki had set up a letter of agreement for Jane’s employment, and approved a starting budget for the Institute in its planning stages. He’d asked her to hold off on employing anyone else in a secure or semi-permanent capacity until he could cross-examine them, which made sense, given what Darcy had said about moles. Jack was in the process of setting up accounts and payroll, and getting a corporate credit card out to her. She and Darcy had a sense of how they would go forward, who would do what. No one mentioned Thor. Jane herself was steadily avoiding thinking about the topic.

There was only a minor argument between the lovebirds about whether or not Loki needed an assistant. And whether or not Darcy needed more than one. Eventually it was settled that Loki would share one of Darcy’s until it became plainly obvious that he needed his own, and Darcy would eventually hire a personal assistant, a media assistant, and a writing assistant that she would share with Jane for the time being.

And Jane would need a staff. But that would be worked on quite soon.

The rest of the planning day was devoted to taking a snapshot of where she was in her current research, clearing it all out of the way, and devoting all of her whiteboard space to planning the Institute, which she and Darcy promptly started doing, with Loki looking on, chortling with glee and lending the occasional opinion.

The first thing Jane did after breakfast the following day, and after the lovebirds flew the nest, was walk over to the local pet shop and buy everything she’d need for cat ownership, including a thirteen week old new kitten whom she promptly named Pratchett. And then she realized that there was no way she’d be able to carry it all back, and that trying to use her trunk in the store would be… strange, awkward, and really just untenable.

That was when Jane decided that she needed to give actual thought-time to creating a few protocols for herself. Because she had magic. And she would be using it. Oh, yes.

She thought about the issue as she took three trips to and from the pet store. It was a nice day, and the walk wasn’t long. By the time she was on the final trip and had Pratchett in his little kitty harness (leash in her pocket - she had decided to buy a carrier when she found out just how big the little tiger kitty was going to be) and riding more or less securely on her shoulder (needle like claws clinging to her jacket) and meowing in her ear, she had decided on The Basic Protocol.

Jane would always wear something with pockets.

All of Jane’s pockets would always be empty.

Every morning Jane would put the token in the right-hand pocket of whatever pair of pants or skirt or jacket she was going to be wearing all day long.

Therefore, everything in the trunk, which would be everything Jane would need, would always be accessible through Jane’s right-hand pocket.

Except for the big things. But Jane had come up with a Big Thing Protocol, too.

She would get a series of increasingly large-mouth bags of correspondingly large capacity.

She would give each bag a clear designation, so that she could easily and accurately call for each bag.

Each bag would also be of a sort that could be crushed very small - and thus be reasonably taken out of her pocket.

When she needed to store or retrieve a Big Thing, she would call for an appropriately sized bag, remove it from her pocket, call for the token, remove it from her pocket, and put the token in the new bag. She would store or retrieve said large item, and then remove the token from the bag, replace it in her pocket, and replace the bag in her pocket.

Problem solved.

And it also meant that she would never lose her notebook again, even when Darcy wasn’t around. Unless she forgot to put it back in her pocket…

Jane checked all of her pockets.

She’d forgotten to put her notebook back in her pocket.

* * *

Jane spent the rest of Day One of the Royal Drama Honeymoon Reprieve working through curriculum and staffing needs.

Day Two was devoted to cleaning out her apartment, back in Virginia. Not all of it, of course. The furniture would be left to a moving company she would engage in a month or two. But all of the books and personal items went into The Trunk.

God, The Trunk. Jane would worship at Frigga’s feet just for giving her The Trunk alone, if she hadn’t been generally annoyed with every member of Loki’s family except Loki himself. Well, and Darcy, she supposed. Darcy was now part of Loki’s family. ...Yeah. Still weird.

All the same, she’d made good progress by lunch time. She ordered in some Thai and brought Pratchett back to the gas station to play at home for a while, where his litter box was. Jane had lost count of the number of times she’d had to pull her kitten out of The Trunk in order to put something in it, or shift to another category of space. Pratchett was endlessly fascinated by her new piece of luggage, and Jane couldn’t blame him. She was, too.

She returned to her little apartment and looked around. It was less chaotic than moving had ever been for her. All of her books were packed. All of the art on her walls. All of her clothes. All of the sheets and towels, though some were down in the basement laundry. All of the kitchen things were packed up, such as they were. The only thing of any interest or value that she had in her kitchen and hadn’t taken was her electric kettle and her collection of tea pots. Which she now had at her disposal. It made Jane feel ridiculously close to her mother.

Her plants had already been given away, and she’d cleaned out her fridge before she’d left for New Mexico. The only things left were the random knicknacks, and the rest of her home office, which she could probably do before lunch arrived.

After lunch, Jane quietly cleaned out her cramped little office at the University. She had already cleared out her research lab for the summer. Her office was a private one, or else she would have left it until later. She wasn’t announcing her resignation until she could submit Darcy’s course credits, which wouldn’t be another three weeks, at the earliest.

It was four in the afternoon when Jane was finally finished. “Well, that’s done,” she said quietly, relishing the empty office echo.

She returned to New Mexico and thought about emailing her mother and telling her that she’d be in the area tomorrow, but then thought about SHIELD. On second thought, she’d just surprise her mother. After all, everything was changing and she had a lot to share. And Jane was pretty sure that her mother’s London flat wasn’t bugged by the creepy clandestine quasi-governmental agency that Loki found so amusing. In the end, Jane put on her invisibility cloak, pulled up the hood, willed herself to be unnoticed by everyone, and decided to spend the evening practicing her apparition techniques in all the places in the world she’d ever been. And somewhere along the line, she’d get some dinner, too.

* * *

The Carlsbad Caverns had been fun to wander around in, and driving with Loki was certainly eye-opening. It was no surprise to Darcy that the man had a lead foot, though on the backroads of New Mexico and Texas she wasn’t sure if anyone cared. But the hotel was divine. The Four Seasons in Dallas was a five-star hotel, and that was really the plan for the honeymoon. Three nights here before they moved on should be enough time to do some shopping, visit Aiden and make a mental anchor of where she lived so that Darcy could come back when she wanted to, and well. Okay. Also on the agenda was sex. Sex would be involved. Quite a lot of very frequent sex, to be perfectly clear on the matter.

It was the honeymoon, after all.

They checked into the hotel later in the evening than Darcy had planned on, particularly given that she’d forgotten about the time change when they crossed the border into Texas, but it didn’t matter, really. They ordered from room service and when Darcy put the phone down, she couldn’t help but to fling herself onto their king sized bed and bounce a few times. Just because.

The suite was gorgeous, but really, not as gorgeous as the man standing in it. And he quickly redirected her attention. And her clothes.

Darcy giggled and propped herself up on her elbows, watching him slowly slither up the bed, lavishing attention on her feet, then her ankles. She hissed when he got to her knees.

“You know we have to stop when room service arrives, right? I mean, you’re not going to cry foul at that point, right? And we have to have, like, _clothes on_!” she said, ending on a squeak. Anything else she was going to say just devolved into a groan as Loki was clearly intent on starting dinner early. With her.

“Oh, my _god_ , Loki,” she groaned, and not for the last time that night.

* * *

Day Four found Jane quietly writing job descriptions for her future staff and faculty. Perhaps the most important was that of business manager. She took a break at noon to go have dinner with her mother.

Day Five was a day of cleaning. Music playing quietly in the background - none of that stuff that Darcy would listen to - and Jane found herself missing her piano. The feeling was so familiar that she didn’t realize for the first half hour of moping a bit that she could actually go back to her apartment and play it. Upon realizing, she immediately did so, calling some sheet music out from The Trunk. Some Chopin and easy Beethoven, avoiding Rachmaninoff because she hadn’t practiced in months. After an hour she returned, calmer and more refreshed than she’d been since Loki led her in that meditation.

Which reminded her, Jane really needed to start a new list of books to write, and to suggest to Loki to write. Would it be all that bad if he got a reputation as some kind of new age guru, on top of everything else? Well, Darcy would be the one to consult on that, too. Jane made a note of it.

And then back to the cleaning. Fresh sheets for the guest bed and her own, a token ten minutes of dusting in the guest room and larger outer room, and more seriously, all the dishes that she hadn’t been doing in the main room as well as in her trailer. It was definitely time to clean. Why? Because there was actually time. Unlike the last three years of her life which had just been one rat race layering over another, overlapping and concurrent until Jane didn’t really know what calm was anymore.

No more threat of tenure - to receive it or not. No more grasping for grants, and racing to fulfill them under deadline. No more rejections from scholarly journals. No more stigma for her focus of study. When Loki comes back and goes public - and okay, apparently ultra covert organizations are good for something - everything will change.

It’s already begun to change, really.

Everything was changing, Jane thought with a smile. She took a deep breath and did all that she could remember of Loki’s white-light-happiness meditation while she sat outside and breathed the desert air.

At noon Jane had dinner with her mother again who just shook her head at her daughter, swearing that she always knew something strange and wonderful was going to happen for her.

At three, Mountain Standard Time, Jane put her cloak on and walked to the Roswell International Air Center in four steps. An old Air Force base, it wasn’t much. Didn’t even have a bar, but Jane had planned quite well. She apparated at a distant point in the parking lot that she had memorized a few days earlier and took her cloak off, feeding the sinfully thin fabric into the right-hand pocket of her jeans. She checked her watch.

Erik’s flight from Dallas-Fort Worth should have arrived two minutes ago.

Jane hiked through the lot and into the building. Realizing she was going to have a wait of probably ten minutes, she pulled out her new notebook (the one for the Institute) and a pen and worked on some of her lists. Then she had a thought and pulled out her cellphone to text Aiden Lewis, her new best medical friend. A sweet girl, Jane paused to think. Painfully shy, poor thing.

Convenient, really, that the only regular flight to or from the Roswell Airport, such as it was, was to Dallas-Fort Worth, where Aiden was doing her residency. Jane would have to go out at some point so she had a sense of the place and could travel there on her own.

Jane continued to muse, putting her cellphone away and pulling out her pen again. There was so much to do.

She was so lost in thought that she was surprised when a pair of shoes and a suitcase came to a stop rather inside her personal space. She looked up to find her father’s colleague, Dr. Erik Selvig of Tromso, Norway.

“Hello, Jane,” he said with an indulgent smile.

She sprung up from her seat and folded the older man in a tight embrace. God, seeing him was like having a little bit of Dad back again.

“Erik,” she said softly in his ear. “Thank you so much for coming.” And oh, darn it. She was getting weepy. Ever since she found that damn crown she’d managed to cry at least once a day for some reason or another. Usually at her mother’s flat. It was so embarrassing. She was not a weepy woman, darn it!

She sniffed and blinked and sniffed one more time before pulling back. “I have so much to tell you. And show you! But first things first. Are you hungry? Would you prefer to get settled back at my lab - I have a guest room ready for you - or do you want to just jump right in?”

Erik laughed, and Jane felt her shoulders relax. He and Dad used to laugh over the dinner table when she was little, when her father’s theories got too outlandish for Erik, or when they shared a joke.

They made their way out of the little airport, and of course, because it was Roswell, they were surrounded by pictures of the typically UFO green alien head. Oh, they had it wrong. Or, well, really, who knew? Maybe there were those kinds of sentient bipeds out there, too. But Loki sure as hell didn’t look like that.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you can on the way there and when I need a break, I’ll let you know.”

Jane laughed. On the way there. She was getting giddy again…

“Sounds great. And just so you know, Erik, I really haven’t lost my mind. I can prove every single thing I say. My new mentor and patron is away on his honeymoon right now, so he’s not available for comment for another… ten days, but I think we’ll have plenty to discuss before he comes back. Are you ready to have your mind blown, Dr. Selvig?”

Erik gave her a look that spoke of his amused tolerance. “Do your best, Dr. Foster.”

“The Einstein-Rosen Bridge? Yeah. I haven’t made it work yet, but someone else did. I made first contact with them. Well, essentially first. For this trip. Which is the first official one in quite a while. Anyway, they sent a diplomat, a thousand year old crown prince. He’s my new patron. And I'm his mother's, the queen’s, new favorite scientist. And she gave me some toys, Erik. I have _alien technology_ , Erik.”

Erik Selvig stopped in his tracks and stared at her, just as they were crossing the roadway to the parking lot.

Jane grinned an, admittedly, manic grin.

“You’re serious,” he said, slowly.

She couldn't help but to laugh. “I’m really, really serious!” Still laughing. _God_ , this was so much fun.

“I want to know everything. And I want a demonstration. Several, if possible.”

Jane grinned and started walking again. She pulled out a very large bag with a very large opening from her pocket and tossed The Trunk’s token in it, even as she walked in between two cars. No one else was around them.

“I’ll take your bag,” she said, without wiping the grin from her face. Following, but still blinking, Erik handed it over. Jane pushed the handle back into the rolling luggage and then just popped her folding bag right over the top. When she got to the bottom, there was no more luggage.

“Exhibit A,” she said. “Your luggage is now in my interdimensional storage unit.” She showed him the inside of the empty folding bag, and when he met her eyes again, she widened them dramatically just for a moment, still grinning.

Erik gaped.

Token retrieved and back in pocket, bag in pocket, and that was done.

“Exhibit B,” she said, offering her hand. Erik looked at it vacantly. “Go on. I won’t bite. I’m still me. Take my hand, Erik.” He did so. Jane thought very clearly of the bifrost rune, and took a step toward it.

And they were there. “You are now about sixty or seventy miles away from the airport parking lot.” They stood at the edge of the bifrost rune, directly across from the two camp chairs she’d set up earlier, with the little folding table in between, and the closed cooler full of cold drinks, both bottles of water and beer.

Erik let go of her hand like it was going to bite him after all. He just blinked. “What is this place?” he asked eventually.

“Exhibit C. This is the bifrost rune. It’s what’s left on the ground after their Einstein-Rosen Bridge occurs between their planet and another one. And since I’m being observed by creepy quasi-governmental agencies, I thought this would be a good place for us to talk. But we can nip back if you need to lay down, or use the facilities. Just let me know. The residential portion of our space is completely free of bugs, so you don’t have to worry about that. But anyway, come on. Do you need anything in your luggage?”

Erik wordlessly shook his head, and looked at the markings on the ground in silence.

“What did you say this was? What did you call it?”

“They call it a ‘bifrost rune’,” she said slowly, enunciating the words carefully.

Erik gave her a startled side-eye.

Jane just grinned.

Oh, she knew. These were probably the sort of stories he grew up on. Loki, Odin, Thor and the rest. Hell, Wagner wrote a trilogy of four operas just on Loki alone. Not that she’d actually seen all of them. Not that she’d seen any opera in quite a while, actually.

Jane had a feeling that the Ring Cycle was going to have a resurgence in popularity in the coming year, and that it wouldn’t be hard at all to get tickets. Box seats, even. Jane idly wondered if Darcy liked opera at all. Who knew? The woman had more depth than Jane had given her credit for at the beginning.

“ _Bifrost_?” Erik’s eyes were wide. “Wait, I’m sorry, did you say, ‘ _bifrost_ ’?”

Jane nodded. “I did,” she confirmed, somewhat smugly.

“Who did you say you made first contact with?”

“I didn’t. But would you like to sit down before you hear? I have some beer. I know it’s before five, but I figure…”

She watched as Erik swallowed thickly, but she couldn’t stop grinning. She didn’t want to make light of what had to be a difficult moment for him, but she just couldn’t stop grinning.

“Yes. Beer. Okay. Yes.”

They walked around the wide circle.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she mused quietly, almost to herself. “Everything they make is beautiful, Erik. And I’ve been there, you know. For his wedding. That’s how I met his mother. Amazing woman. Oh, Erik. You know, Clarke’s Third Law is totally true. _‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’_ And boy howdy is their technology sufficiently advanced.”

“What planet are we talking about, Jane? Who, exactly, have you been talking to?” Erik asked as he collapsed into the camp chair.

Jane opened the cooler and pulled out two beers. She pulled a bottle opener from her pocket, popped the tops and then dropped the opener into the cooler before shutting the lid. She handed one to him and proposed a toast.

“Erik, here’s to bridging the gap between science and magic.”

He gaped, but toasted it, the long neck of his bottle clinking against hers. She took a sip and made sure he’d swallowed his first one before she spoke.

“The planet in question is a goldilocks one about twelve hundred lightyears away, in the constellation Lyra. It’s inhabited by a sentient race of humanoid bipeds. I swear to you they look like you and me. But they’re not human. The inhabitants call their planet... Asgard.”

Erik choked on his beer, despite Jane’s precautions.

“This is probably really very weird for you. I get that. And it’s probably a bit weird for my patron, who remembers being worshipped here as a god when he was, essentially, an irresponsible teenager. But he’s not, you know. A god, I mean. Or an irresponsible teenager. Anymore. He’s just not human, is the thing.”

Erik’s eyes gaped. He took a long draught of the beer and drained most of the bottle.

“Who is your patron, Jane?” he asked, holding the cold bottle in both hands and turning his head to look directly at her.

Jane took a deep breath, finally not smiling.

“His Royal Highness. Crown Prince Loki. Of Asgard.”

Erik promptly succumbed to a coughing fit, even though he wasn’t drinking anything at the time. When he was able to return to himself, Erik just stared at her, eyes wide.

“Have you lost your _mind_?” he whispered.

Jane arched an eyebrow and set her jaw. It’s possible her lips were pursed. “No.”

“Loki? Loki? _LOKI_?”

Jane’s eyes narrowed. “You know, he can hear you when you say his name.” Jane knew a lot that Loki hadn’t told her directly, as he seemed not to mind telling Darcy things in Jane’s hearing, possibly when they thought she was paying attention to other things. As a matter of fact, Jane made it a point never to ignore Loki entirely. Every day with him was an educational opportunity that Jane was not going to miss out on if she could help it.

Then again, if Loki mentioned it in her hearing, he probably didn’t mind if she knew. And as for this conversation, Loki probably didn’t care much about the present moment she was having with Erik, as he had Darcy to be distracted with, and... yeah. But Jane didn’t feel like mentioning any of it to Erik just now. It would only muddy the waters.

Erik crossed himself and Jane rolled her eyes.

“Oh my god, Jane. This is really bad.” And then he drained the rest of the beer.

Jane sighed and tried again. “I can totally understand that _according to Norse Mythology_ this would be a bad thing. But Eric, this isn’t the year 1100. This is the year 2011. Loki and Thor were young idiots cavorting on spring break here on Earth. Essentially. And while Thor is apparently still a bit of an idiot, _Loki has grown up_. Do you hear me when I say that? _Loki has grown up. He’s different now._ He’s… _amazing_. And he is the soon-to-be announced Ambassador from Asgard. _And_ my patron.” And eventually, her father-in-law, if fate was merciful in any respect. But none of that, now.

“Who is on his honeymoon,” Erik added mechanically, his eyes still a bit wide.

“Yes. He is. Bless his heart.” Jane smiled again, just a little bit. The lovebirds were just… stupid in love. It was sweet.

“And his mother gave you… _alien technology_?”

“Yes. Frigga. I spent a day with her and Loki’s wife, in preparation for their wedding.”

Erik stared out into the desert, muttering something to himself while Jane quietly prepared him another beer and slipped it into his free hand.

“I’ll tell you everything I know, Erik. Because then once you’re up to speed, I want your help with something. My new project. Oh, the Einstein-Rosen bridge project is still my baby, and I’ll come back to it in a year or so once I’ve got this new thing off the ground. But in the meantime… Oh, Erik. In the _meantime I’m going to have so much fun!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the plot chugs right along, slowly but steadily. What did you think?


	4. Wherein statuses change.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik comes to grips, Coulson reports to Fury, Darcy realizes she is not an American anymore, and Thor is finally banished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on canon compliance or lack thereof. So, according to Marvel Cinematic Universe Canon, Director Fury has a very bad week in April of 2011. Everything happens at once. You can check out the lovely visual timeline [here](https://cdn0.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/Qid1KtNiqrSRABZZArHu-Ukfl-k=/cdn0.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/3658258/timeline.0.jpg). But here’s a thing. 40-hour a week undergrad internships do not occur in April. Ever. They’re summer gigs, if they happen like that. So, since this story is really about Loki and his wild and torrid love affair - um, I mean, his new life - I’ve transposed Fury’s Bad Week to the end of July, 2011. Which also means, for the curious, that Darcy was born in Cancer, not Leo (as I had sort of hoped/planned). That also means, for those who might be following along thusly, that the date of their wedding anniversary is July 13th.  
> Also, yes, I have played a bit fast and loose with Hulk canon, but really, so has Marvel. Watch me have no remorse. :D

After some fantastic Thai take out from the little place around the corner from her apartment, plus several more beers, Dr. Erik Selvig was ready to talk and fairly clear-headed. He demanded to be told everything that had happened, first, and then to do a thorough inspection of all the foreign technology Jane was in possession of.

Honestly, Jane thought it would have taken a bit more time, and had bought copies of the Washington Post, the New York Times, and the Wall Street Journal while she was out, hoping at least to do more than scan the headlines. Apparently Ironman had been attacked by some lunatic at the Grand Prix yesterday and Jane was nothing if not curious. That kind of technology was supposed to be decades away, Stark had said so, right?

Jane checked her watch as she steadily made her way through her excellent chicken curry. Sunset was at 8:12 today and dusk was forty minutes later, so they had a good three hours of light, after which Jane wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to stay at the rune site, and anyway, she was trying to wind up her days around nine PM mountain time so that her brain was quiet enough to sleep by ten.

Enough sleep was no longer a joke, or something to be put on a bucket list. It was now right up there with good nutrition, exercise, and petting her cat.

Pratchett! She should have checked on him while she was out.

Jane looked over to Erik who was finishing up his dinner.

“I forgot something, I’ll be right back,” she said, putting aside her take out dish and standing up. Before he could even clear his mouth to demure, Jane had stepped back into the lab and called for Pratchett.

He trotted up and meowed his tiny little kitten meow.

“You wanna come meet a friend of mine? Hang out in the desert?”

Pratchett meowed again and brushed up against her leg.

“Want to ride on my shoulder? Huh, buddy?”

Another meow. Jane took it as a yes and hoisted his tiny little feline body up and plunked him on her shoulder before she went over to grab a bottle of water just for him. She already had his travel kit in her trunk.

“Now, we’re going to go meet an old friend of my father’s and he’s just wonderful. I really like him, and I think you will, too. And if you’re good, I’ll give you a little bit of my curried chicken.”

Pratchett meowed his consent, and Jane walked back toward the bifrost rune with a bottle of water in her hand and a tiny tiger kitty on her shoulder. An eyepatch, she thought, would complete the picture of some modern day pirate. Though she couldn’t decide if the eyepatch should be hers, or Pratchett’s.

* * *

**Week-end Summary Report to Director Fury**

**Submitted by Agent Phillip Coulson**

**Concerning:** Situation 00429BR-NM, 084 IFU, New Gifteds.

 **Date:** Saturday, July 20th, 2011

 

**Status: No Change**

  * 084 continues to disable some but not all surveillance devices planted.

  * Surveillance devices planted in residential areas continue to be replaced, tested, and prove viable, but never record or transmit anything at all, when in situ.

  * Intern & Stargazer continue to openly discuss surveillance & constitutional rights.

  * 084 violence limited to training exercises.

  * 084’s weakness continues to be Intern primarily and Stargazer secondarily.

  * Unlikely that we know 084’s complete scope of giftedness, or depth within scope.




 

**Status: Changed**

  * Gifts from Asgardian Head of State to each Intern and Stargazer make them eligible for Gifted Status. Defensive in nature. Limited teleportation (to places individual has previously visited and clearly remembers) due to alien technology embedded in tattoo. Limited invisibility (based on desire of individual) due to alien technology in hooded cloak. Unlimited storage capacity due to alien technology in a wooden trunk that accesses another dimension/possible interdimensional space. Value of gifts in Asgardian economy, unknown.

  * 084 scope as Gifted is gaining definition. If some or all alien technology can be embedded in tattoos, this could be potential source of some or all of 084’s giftedness: There are extensive tattoos on 084’s back and arms. Tattoos not on face, chest, or hands. Legs and feet unknown. Current giftedness: Unknown teleportation (sighting at Cartier in France, credit card usage) due to unknown. Unknown telepathy (hears some people’s thoughts, speaks in some people’s thoughts, including one of our agents, and intern) due to unknown. Unknown storage capacity, possibly in another dimension/interdimensional space, due to unknown. Unknown mental powers, possible illusionist due to unknown. Unknown mental powers over lies and those who lie, due to unknown. Unknown mental powers over chaos and the chaotic, due to unknown. Unknown shapeshifter due to unknown.  Unknown control of time (ability to stop time, or possibly take individuals out of the flow of time, temporarily) due to unknown. Genius or better level intellect (Stargazer is perpetually awed by him and her IQ is 151) due to species and age, possibly. Extremely high level of agility (attested to during weapons training) due to species and age, possibly. Extremely high level of insight (mastery of mischief explanation to Intern; insight coupled with a strange sense of humor) due to unknown. High level of strength (attested to during weapons training) due to species and age, possibly. High level of visual acuity (attested to by Hawkeye) due to species, possibly. High level of virility (attested to by Intern), due to species, possibly. High level of collaboration (attested to by Stargazer and Intern interactions) due to mission, possibly. High level of wisdom (attested to by Stargazer and Intern interactions and surveillance) due to species and age, possibly. High level of proficiency in medieval weaponry, especially throwing axes, battle axe, and glaive.

  * Asgardian Head of State believes Stargazer will marry second son at unidentified time in future. Stargazer does not agree, and is hoping instead to marry unborn, yet-to-be conceived son of 084 and Intern. No one questions that Stargazer will join the Royal family as a member at some unidentified point in the future.

  * 084 & Intern are on roadtrip honeymoon, and their car is successfully under surveillance. They are currently touring the Gulf states, USA.

  * Stargazer is preparing for the opening of the Royal Asgardian Institute and Cultural Center, of which she will be the new director. Stated goal: to bridge the gap between our science and their technology for the benefit of both planets. She is intending to bring twelve ‘apprentices’ in their final decade of schooling to Earth, teach them the scientific method and have them translate their technology for our use.

  * Stargazer has made repeated contact with Sister for medical and nutritional advice.

  * Stargazer looks fifteen years younger after trip to Asgard, and reports that she and Intern went through various healing processes via alien technology during their brief visit before the wedding.

  * Stargazer has shared everything with her mother and her father’s former colleague, Dr. Erik Selvig. Dr. Selvig is a resident of Tromso, Norway, who was peripherally involved with Dr. Banner’s work at Culver University, through a program of interdisciplinary mentoring. He is currently visiting the Puente Antiguo site.

  * Asgard is located approximately 1200 lightyears away in the constellation Lyra, and is a ‘goldilocks’ planet. NASA has not yet recorded it.




 

**Action: In Progress**

  * We are securing requested site for Asgardian Embassy near Roswell, NM.

  * We have drafts of media releases for review when 084 returns. We will be ready for 084 to go public as soon as he returns to NM.

  * We have drafts of recommended security protocols for 084.

  * We are creating backgrounds for agents best to be employed as staff and faculty at Royal Asgardian Institute.




 

**Action: Future**

  * Work with 084 to cement diplomatic ties with USA, Germany, and China first, then following with the G8, +5, G20, and other countries.

  * Establish more regular overt communication with 084 or representative.

  * Establish friendly ties with Stargazer and Institute.




 

**Action: Recommended**

  * Cease all technological surveillance on 084 and Intern. It only seems to annoy or amuse him, and we suspect that he can cause an audio-visual illusion at will to confound it.

  * Cease all eyes-on surveillance on 084 and Intern. Reasons above. Also, it opens up more of our agents to his recognition. Hawkeye has already been compromised.

  * Continue surveillance on Stargazer at mother’s apartment, only.

  * Redesignate Intern as Gifted. Full name: Darcy of Asgard, formerly Darcy Eleanor Lewis. Titles: Her Royal Highness, Princess. Species: Homo Sapiens. Home planet: Earth, (Born: Tucson, Arizona, USA). Codename: Princess. Gifts: Teleportation, Invisibility, Storage. Source of Gifts: Alien technology (Asgard). Current Residence: Puente Antiguo, NM, USA.

  * Redesignate Stargazer as Gifted. Full name: Jane Foster. Titles: Doctor (PhD, Astrophysics), Professor, Director. Species: Homo Sapiens. Home planet: Earth, (Born: Boston, Massachusetts, USA). Codename: Stargazer. Gifts: Teleportation, Invisibility, Storage, Intellect. Source of Gifts: Alien technology (Asgard), physiology. Current Residence: Puente Antiguo, NM, USA.

  * Redesignate 084 as Gifted. Full name: Loki of Asgard. Titles: His Royal Highness, Crown Prince, Ambassador from Asgard, Master of Chaos, Lies, & Mischief, Master Sorcerer. Species: Aesir/Vanir hybrid. Home planet: Asgard. Codename: Mischief. Gifts: Teleportation, Telepathy, Illusions, Storage, Shapeshifting, Intellect, Strength, Agility, Visual Acuity, Wisdom, Time Control, unknown other. Source of Gifts: Alien technology (Asgard), alien physiology(Aesir/Vanir), and unknown other. Current Residence: Puente Antiguo, NM, USA.

  * Inquire directly to 084 as to personal giftedness scope and depth.

  * Offer consultant position in Avengers Initiative to 084.

  * Wrap up Puente Antiguo site. Recoup level 2EL. Recommend reassigning all agents independently, and a psych eval and 3 week R&R for Hawkeye.




* * *

Day five of The Most Amazing Honeymoon On Earth saw Darcy languidly stretching after a bout of terrific morning sex. Loki had gotten up to answer the door and let room service come in and do their breakfast thing.

Darcy wandered out into the lounge area of their suite, after brushing her teeth and throwing on her (new, beautiful, dark blue, totally classy, silk) bathrobe. Loki greeted her with a searing kiss, just after he’d pulled her chair out for her. His left hand palmed a cool trail down her side and ended cupping her hip and holding her close.

He broke the kiss to murmur against her lips that breakfast was served. She kind of almost wanted to go back to bed, but maybe after breakfast. Because of bacon. She could smell it.

Bacon, then Loki. Definitely.

Darcy took a sip of her coffee as she glanced at the newspaper that the hotel had sent up. Just yesterday Darcy had been complaining that she felt completely out of touch with what was going on in the world. When she had time, she didn’t have signal. When she had signal, she didn’t have time. Loki must have ordered it. Along with the bacon.

She munched on a strip as she got involved in the headline article of USA Today. _IRON MAN INJURED AT GRAND PRIX: Madman with similar suit attacks unprepared Stark and other drivers at famous race. Is this the end of an era?_

Darcy read on, her brows furrowed, gasping as she read the details of the attack. It was just so… _horrible_.

“What is it, darling?” Loki asked over his morning tea.

Darcy looked up and quietly watched him tuck into his four servings of eggs, with a side of bacon, sausage, hashbrowns and several slices of whole grain toast. After a moment she met his eyes.

“This stuff in the news. I mean… poor Tony Stark, you know? Attacked by this random mad genius who ripped off his tech, somehow.”

Darcy watched as Loki raised one eyebrow. It was his skeptical eyebrow. Which made zero sense whatsoever.

“So they would like you to believe,” he said, cryptically, and continued eating.

“What do you mean? Wait, do you mean media bias? Because I don’t think this is what we were talking about before.”

Loki shrugged and finished his mouthful before he spoke. “To a minor extent, yes. This is an obvious case of the media doing just as you mentioned previously; building up a leader only to glory in knocking him or her down later. This would be the knocking down moment, I suppose. But I was referring to the fact that in this particular case, the media know not of whom they speak at all. The genius in question is neither mad nor random. And Mr. Stark opened himself up to this attack, oh, some months ago, now.”

Darcy just stared at him. How in the name of fuck did he know what was going on? Never, of course, did it cross her mind that he might not be right. Loki was _always_ right. But… how?

“What’s going on?” Darcy asked, bewildered.

Both eyebrows went up this time, and Darcy waited as he chewed and swallowed. “What do you mean, darling?”

“What. Is. Going. On.” she said, with emphasis. She gestured at the newspaper, now next to her plate. “Clearly…” she paused to figure out what was so clear. “You… have a depth of knowledge that I’m not sharing. And I wanna. So get with the sharing, please.”

Loki nodded and took another bite as he marshalled his thoughts.

“Tony Stark,” he said, beginning as if it were the title of an essay. “There are four Humans whose progress I have been following for some time. Each of them _particularly_ chaotic. A man named Tony. A man named Nick. A man named Bruce. A woman named Jane.”

Darcy gave him a look and Loki nodded. And then Darcy remembered him mentioning in passing, something about observing Jane’s progress, or something. Yeah. An info dump was clearly required.

Loki continued on without pause. “Becoming an intimate of any of the four would have brought me to the eventual attention of SHIELD, which had been part of my primary purpose when I arrived - do note, my darling, that it is now my secondary purpose - but Dr. Foster was _by far_ the easiest to befriend. Even before I knew what would happen here with you, I had intended to gain her trust and offer my aid, thus becoming a valued ally. I knew that SHIELD was watching her and that they would notice me sooner or later. In truth, SHIELD is also watching Tony and Bruce, but both are, in their own ways, difficult men to befriend.”

Darcy’s mind searched for the other man’s name Loki mentioned. “What about the other guy? Isn’t SHIELD watching him? Is that why he wasn’t an option? And this is all coming back to crazy-not-crazy at the Grand Prix, right?”

Loki nodded as he ate some of his breakfast. Eventually, he continued. “SHIELD is not watching Nick for the simple reason that Nick _is_ SHIELD, and thus unwise to approach directly until other avenues have been exhausted. It is far better, I believe, for Nick to approach me when he decides it best.”

Darcy blinked, breakfast forgotten. “A guy named Nick is running a massive conspiracy-theorist's-wet-dream?”

Loki nodded again, pouring himself some tea.

“I’m gonna need last names. And maybe just one or two identifying details. You call him Nick and I think of Santa Claus. And calling Tony Stark just… _Tony_ is… really weird.”

Loki grinned and nodded again. “As you wish. Director Nicholas Fury of SHIELD is not a man you wish to annoy, if you wish to have a long and unimpeded life.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “He, wait. His last name - it’s fury? As in really, very angry? That’s bizarre. And also, I can feel my constitutional rights being violated from here.”

Loki let the first part of Darcy’s witty repartee slide. “And well you should. I have read your Constitution, and your Bill of Rights. They contain some very compelling language against tyranny. And yet, ‘tis no longer your Constitution, nor your Bill of Rights, Darcy of Asgard.”

Something inside of Darcy’s chest thudded and then dropped. _“Oh my God, I’m not an American anymore,”_ she whispered, staring past the crisp white table cloth, her mouth agape ever-so-slightly.

She didn’t even notice when Loki had gotten up, only when he took her hand in his. He was kneeling beside her.

“You have done me the great honor of twining your life with mine, and in so doing you have given up a great number of things. Many, perhaps, you have not yet fully considered. I will do everything in my power to make you comfortable and happy, Darcy, and I count each of your sacrifices as a precious gift. I shall never take them for granted, nor, I hope, shall I take _you_ for granted.”

Darcy looked over at her husband, kneeling next to her chair.

He looked human, was the thing. _He looked human_. He acted like a posh Brit out of some romantic comedy on cable. He was smarter than everyone she knew, put together, but not smarter than she could imagine a person being. He always dressed like he was walking off a GQ photoshoot. He had sex like he’d been teaching the advanced course in seduction for years. The magic thing was out from left field, ditto those moments when he duplicated himself or became blue, but he fought like he’d spent twenty years in a mountain monastery in China, and she’d watched enough action films that it seemed only a statistical outlier to normal. The hero was supposed to be handsome, kickass, and an excellent lover. And it was very clear to Darcy that she’d married the hero. And the hero, her husband, was many things, and appeared to be many other things. Above all, _her husband appeared to be human._ And for some unknown reason, her brain kept on forgetting that _he wasn’t._

Her rational mind was quite aware that she had married an alien from outer space _who was not human_. That wasn’t really the issue. When she looked at it straight on, she could see it. Totally fine. No problem. Yep. Prince of Asgard, a planet far, far away. Bifrost. Armor. Frigga teleporting them all over the castle. Stairs - way too many for an advanced society. Magic up the wazoo that she could now do, too. Her own set of armor. And enough weaponry to repel a small invasion. Darcy had first hand experience of all of this and she had even begun sorting through her mental pile of experiences. But when she stopped looking at it straight on, something funny happened in her mind’s peripheral vision. Her hindbrain seemed to take over.

Darcy’s reptilian hindbrain was quite content that _he looked close enough to human-normal-me_ and didn’t like the subject to be brought up again too soon after it was put aside. Like, ever. And so automatic processes just _took over_. And she was still thinking and acting as if nothing much had changed. Except a lot had changed. She wasn’t a US citizen, for one thing, and the Constitution of that country no longer defined her rights as an individual citizen dwelling in it. And that was something, for instance, that Darcy had _utterly_ taken for granted and _never_ thought would change.

 _She wasn’t a US citizen._ She wasn’t going to die in sixty, or seventy, or eighty years. She was going to live to bury all of her siblings, plus whatever nieces and nephews there might be. And the grandnieces. And the great-great-great-great-great grandnieces. One day she would leave Earth and it would be the last time. She wouldn’t be buried here.

Last year it had been hard to imagine leaving Arizona for good, though she’d been preparing herself for it.

Today she realized she wouldn’t be buried on Earth.

“Darcy, love,” her not-British, not-human, not-twenty-something husband said, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumbs. “Are you well?”

“Sometimes,” Darcy began, sounding a little hollow and far away even to herself. “I forget. That you’re not just the boy next door.”

“I take that as a great compliment, my love,” he said quietly. “Midgardians on the whole are a rather xenophobic lot. Have been for sometime. The tendency is either to deify or demonize, but rarely is the truth sought or the middle ground occupied. Or so…” he trailed off, pausing for a moment and Darcy’s attention was pulled in even more. “...I had previously thought. But this world is a rapidly changing one, and though I was not as you had first assumed, you have never deified nor demonized me. And if you, my love, are a glimpse into this world’s future, I no longer fear for it in the way I once did.”

In a movie, Darcy would be able to gracefully slide off the chair and collapse onto his lap and sob without ruining her perfect non-makeup that she’d mysteriously woken up in.

As this was real life, the chair was tucked into the table and when she tried to push the chair back, rediscovered how plush the carpet was. And the chair was upholstered in fuzzy, clinging fabric that precluded sliding, anyway. In the end she had to whine a bit and shove her chair haltingly back, at which point Loki was sitting back on his heels, just watching her.

“I need a hug,” she announced somewhat pathetically. Okay, possibly with a high degree of pathetic attached.

Loki gracefully rose, as if he were in a movie. He simply rocked back on his heels, flexed the thighs that could crush coconuts and slipped up as if gravity were a suggestion he’d decided to ignore. A very tiny, very petty part of Darcy almost sort of kind of hated him. Just briefly. Only for being so graceful. Then Darcy squashed it and got her epic hug of true safety and blissful comfort and decided to forgive her alien prince charming for being more graceful than any human on Earth, and not just her.

* * *

Typical. This was just how conversations with Loki went, Darcy thought. You have a clear destination in mind, and then he throws in all this other  _really fucking interesting information_ , and before you know it you’re completely sidetracked. You can honestly start off talking about media bias in the twenty-first century and end up learning fascinating things about elven physiology. Somehow, and Darcy wasn’t sure she could even recount the twists and turns of their latest attempt at a simple breakfast conversation, but somehow the ‘please tell me all you know about the mad genius who attacked Tony Stark’ conversation had turned into Loki’s explanation that Darcy was the reason he now had hope for the entire human race. And then there were tears and stuff.

So, yeah. Then other things come up. Life happens. And so far as the conversational trend goes, it’s another day or two before the conversation is actually finished.

 _Not today,_ Darcy thought with some vehemence. _Today we are finishing this conversation if it is the last thing we do at midnight._

Darcy glanced over with eyes narrowed and thoughtfully chewed some bacon. Loki just silently smiled at her, quietly eating his breakfast.

Now, think, Darce, she coached herself. What was the last on-topic thing you discussed? Loki had his eyes on three guys and Jane. He wanted to get in with the ARMOR MIBs. So it was an eenie-meanie-miney-moe type thing and Jane won.

Well, really, Darcy thought with a smug grin. The big winner here was clearly Darcy Eleanor Lewis. Er, of Asgard. Well, whatever. The point was--

Loki was laughing. Possibly at her. Though really, heavens only knew where the man’s mind was. Could be observing the Burmese government right now, because he was the sort who enjoyed irony.

“Darling, I am right here with you. I promise you. And yes, I am laughing at you. But only because you’re being delightfully amusing. Would you like to continue our conversation from where we were most sidetracked?”

Darcy gave him an eyebrows up look and an emphatic little shake of her head. Well, duh.

He grinned. But she would not be dissuaded. Gah! He grinned wider. This was one of those recursive loop things! Gah! Now he was laughing! Shit he was seriously beautiful when he was laughing. It was like the joy radiated off of him in waves and Darcy just wanted to bask in it. Naked. On top of him.

She clenched her eyes tight. “Seriously, Mischief. I swear I want to have this conversation, and if you could just dial down the sexy, that would be super helpful.” Darcy cracked open one eye, only to see Loki’s innocent face.

Which was stupidly sexy.

“Aargh!” Darcy yelled.

Loki laughed. It was full of rainbows and light.

Darcy whined in defeat.

“Darling, why don’t you finish your breakfast?” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice. It was so obvious. And for some reason it was both kind of infuriating and also a big hit with her lady parts. “I shall endeavor to be brief and on point for you so that your curiosity may be satisfied, and then we can return to any interesting part to discuss further. Would that suit you?”

He was totally still smiling. She could tell. She wasn’t even looking at him and she could tell.

“Yes,” Darcy said, calmly. Because she could totally be calm and adult in the face of an infuriatingly sexy, amused, and somewhat smug husband. “Thank you.”

“If I am smug, my darling, it is only because I have married the most exquisite creature that Yggdrasil had to offer, and frankly I’m quite happy about it.”

Darcy met his eyes, her odd temper softened, because… yeah. He meant that.

“But to continue on…” he said, trailing off, pausing as he poured himself some more tea. “Now, where was I? There is Nicholas Fury, who is the Director of SHIELD. And of course you have heard about Anthony Stark. Jane you know. And the final human I keep a close eye on, well, I think he’s still human, is a another scientist whom I believe was at your university, though perhaps before you arrived. A Doctor Bruce Banner.”

Banner? _Banner? Wait, Banner? At Culver?_ Darcy blinked. She’d heard of Professor Banner. _Everyone_ had heard of Professor Banner. It’s not every day several people die in a research lab on the South Campus. Darcy herself had run in the Banner, et al. Memorial 5k every spring she’d been at Culver. Darcy shivered.

“Darcy, are you well?”

She cleared her throat and drank a bit of orange juice. “Professor Banner is dead,” she said quietly.

Loki gave her an odd look. Darcy watched as his gaze left her, then, and he stared off into the middle distance. His features softened and relaxed, then suddenly one eyebrow arched and he sighed. After that his attention was back with her. “He’s really not, you know.”

Darcy just stared at him in shock.

She had four different race t-shirts that proclaimed that he really was dead…

“Shall I continue, darling, or do you need a moment?”

“Explain the not-dead thing, please,” she said quietly.

“There was an accident some few years ago. The others did die, but Dr. Banner did not. Instead he was transformed. Hence me not knowing if it is still proper to refer to him as human. He is more like one of your mutants now. He has two forms, one his standard humanesque form, and one… well... large and angry. Though perhaps, ‘uncontrollably, chaotically rageful,’ might be a better way to put it. The US Army was not able to subdue him, and he escaped. His full capacity has not been measured by anyone, not even himself. He still looks for a cure, though he is unlikely to ever find it.”

Darcy blinked, then blinked again. “So, he’s like Jekyll and Hyde? He can’t control it?”

Loki thought for a moment. “In a sense, I suppose it is similar. And, no, unfortunately not. At this point he can almost always resist the urge to shapeshift, but once he does there seems to be no control at all. Only mindless rage. Though the rage should not be conflated with evil, though I suppose it matters not when he’s chasing you, what his precise moral disposition may be.”

“Dr. Banner is alive,” Darcy whispered to herself.

“He is indeed,” Loki responded, quietly.

“But not… quite… human,” she said, not even realizing that tears were falling.

“Not entirely,” he responded gently. “Or at least, not when he becomes quite angry. But then, anger makes monsters of us all, does it not? His is just more difficult to ignore.”

Darcy had lost her appetite for both breakfast and the conversation.

He made to follow her when she got up, but she waved him off. “Eat,” she said. “I’m going to go take a shower. Kind of a long one. You can join me when you finish, if you like, but please finish eating first.”

Darcy numbly made her way out of the lounge area of their suite and back to the bathroom, waiting until she was under the thundering hot water to weep uncontrollably for a man she’d never met who wasn’t dead, but probably wanted to be.

* * *

Darcy had decided to ditch the conversation and any attempt to finish it. She was obviously not meant to do so anytime soon, or else she wouldn’t be in tears every time Loki gave her one more really small nugget of information.

Unfortunately, she had neglected to inform her husband, and she was discovering that he really didn’t have an all-access pass to her brain. So far as she could tell, when she looked him in the eye, was feeling happy, and thinking about him, there was no way he couldn’t hear her. Everything else was up for debate, though she’d figure it out eventually.

He hadn’t brought it up in the shower. He’d just gently made love to her, then washed her back before washing himself.

He hadn’t brought it up as he held her quietly once they were dry, wrapped in fuzzy hotel robes and snuggling on the couch. Loki instead taught her how to say interesting phrases in Aesir, like ‘I love you,’ and ‘darling, won’t you have sex with me?’ and ‘harder, faster, now!’ and at Darcy’s behest, ‘what are you laughing at, Mischief?’ The latter was harder to memorize, but she tried. And mangled the pronunciation. And then promptly forgot the entire phrase.

He hadn’t brought it up as they made love later in the morning on the same couch, and then the floor, and then on the chair, and then over the table, and finally on the bed.

It was only when they were back under the covers, resting before lunch (to be delivered shortly from room service) that he brought it up.

“Now, shall we continue, do you think?” he asked.

Darcy looked at him, wondering if her lady bits would be up for the next round after lunch without a little magical healing foreplay massage. Because he couldn’t mean for them to have sex again. Right now. Dude, it was lunch time. Food first, sexy times second.

Loki smiled and leaned in to kiss her nose. Darcy counted the crinkles at the side of his eyes when he smiled that particular smile. Five on the right, four on the left. Well, her right. Not his, come to think of it--

“I was referring to our earlier conversation. The Grand Prix incident?”

Darcy blinked, jarred. She shivered and he held her closer.

“Maybe it’s not important that I know, after all,” she said quietly, her face against the side of his, half buried in a pillow.

“My sweet darling,” he began, quietly speaking just under her ear. She could feel the soft skin of his face rub against hers. “Yggdrasil is full of pain and suffering. Avoiding it will not make it go away, nor will paying attention to it somehow make it more real or more prevalent. We must see it, find it in ourselves to have compassion, act if it is ours to act, and offer peace in place of fear whenever we can. And then we let it go. For if we do not, the pain of it will feed upon our very souls and there will be naught left of us but a husk and the hungry pain within.”

Darcy shifted so she could see his face again. “How’d you get so wise?”

He smiled softly, and it was a quiet and gentle thing. “My mother would tell you that I’ve learned my lessons well.”

“She did, actually.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, genuine and intense curiosity in his gaze.

“We’re getting sidetracked,” Darcy pointed out.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “So we are,” he admitted with obvious reluctance. After a moment, Loki shifted and rolled onto his back, inviting Darcy to continue snuggling with him.

“I have followed these four since they were children. I could see each of them from the web of chaos, you see. I have largely not meddled in their lives, as it is all too important for them to learn their lessons themselves. This is of course quite different from my philosophy of meddling on the larger scale, for instance, what I have relayed to you about SHIELD and the quaintly named HYDRA. In the case of the latter, my meddling _is_ the consequence of their failure to learn their lessons, individually and collectively.

“Now, what happened at the Grand Prix was the logical outcome of the lives of both Tony Stark and his father, Howard. Neither one has cared particularly for the lives their own ambition has ruined and in consequence, the family has produced many enemies, and enemies sometimes of their closest friends. Just because a person has been ruined and cast off does not mean, of course, that the legacy of pain and suffering dies with them. Quite the opposite. Which is why compassion is so important, Darcy. Compassion on Howard Stark’s part would have been the only thing that might have thwarted the Grand Prix incident, and it would have had to have occurred many, many years ago. Instead, he has left his son, who is not much better at compassion than the father, to reap the consequences. And some months ago, Tony Stark declared to the entire realm that he had ‘privatized world peace,’ I believe was his phrase. And the essence behind the phrase, if I understood properly, was that world peace was now his sole responsibility, and all should be grateful for his efforts on their behalf.

“This annoyed every enemy the Starks have ever made, my dear. They all want him dead, now, and if possible, his empire, his legacy, and everything he has ever loved. To them, the ruin of everything he has ever touched would still not be enough to quench their thirsty hatred, nor their pain. Crazy-not-crazy is but the second of their number. Stark the Elder’s closest companion was the first. There will be a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. It will occur over and over again with greater and greater intensity until he finally learns his lessons, if he chooses to do so before he dies. Which he may not. And that is his choice.” Loki paused for a moment and stared at the ceiling. Finally he smiled a rueful smile. “Still. He dances with chaos quite beautifully. He has my admiration.”

“And your condolences, apparently.”

Loki nodded, silently. After some time he said the words. “Yes. Those, too.”

* * *

There was no privacy. That was, perhaps, what Thor hated most about his new chambers.

Well, not exactly.

He mostly hated that he was there. He hated waiting. He hated being so very misunderstood by his mother - his mother! Father would never have allowed this. He hated not knowing what would happen. He hated being cooped up - there was no room for a decent stride, much less any training exercises. He hated the lack of fresh air. He hated the abandonment of his friends. He hated the monotony - O, the monotony!

Being bound of his magic was nothing. Bah! Magic. He never used it. What was it to him?

They kept the cell across and diagonal from his mostly empty. It was a token gesture, much like the comfortable chair, the soft rug, the privacy screen for the necessary, and the books.

His mother visited him daily. What a farce. Lecturing him as if he were just a stripling.

And here she was again, hands folded behind her back as if something very great were weighing on her mind. Perhaps the imprisonment of her firstborn? No, likely not.

“Good afternoon, my son.”

Thor looked up at her, and then away, continuing to do what few training exercises the space allowed.

“I see you have not thoroughly enjoyed the books I brought to you.”

They were strewn across the floor. In a fit of utter boredom he’d picked one up only to discover its content was drivel and its author pretentious. When he realized that all five were in a series of the same, he did admittedly chuck them across the tiny cell. Their spines made a satisfying noise, though the fluttering of the pages was like a bird’s wing, and he hadn’t seen any of those in too long, so the satisfaction was quite short lived.

“Midgard is a worthy topic of consideration,” Frigga posited.

Thor snorted. It was _modern_ Midgard. Modern Midgard was boring. Their wars were inglorious excuses for genocide and their people reached for pretension that was not their due. Nothing like the Midgard of his youth. Then, at least, the backwater was somewhat interesting in that the people showed proper deference for their betters.

“Your brother, Loki, is our leading expert on Midgard of this modern era,” Frigga said, trying again.

Yes, and apparently he wrote a five volume work on the subject with the sole intention of using it to put his elder brother asleep.

“It is a shame you are not more interested in the realms of Yggdrasil, particularly Midgard. Ah, well. I am here to deliver the remaining portion of your sentence, Thor, son of Odin. Know you now, this sentence bears the unanimous approval of Odin’s own Council.”

Thor stopped his exercises and looked at the All-Mother with wariness and weariness, both.

“For the crime of high treason against the throne of Asgard and the will of the All-Father in planning to break the treaty with Jotunheim and to attempt regicide there, you have already been bound of your magic and relieved of your right to use Mjolnir.”

Mjolnir. He remembered all too clearly her last words to him, after which all was silence. Horrible, horrible silence.

_‘You, Thor Odinson, have never been worthy of me and I am weary of waiting. I continued to serve you at the behest of the Mighty All-Father. The All-Mother has relieved me of such duties until I deem you worthy, and I am relieved indeed.’_

“And now, I banish you, Thor Odinson. You will forthwith be transported to Midgard and into the custody of your brother, the Crown Prince. During your banishment you forfeit both your birthright and your apple at harvest. Your banishment will end when you have learned humility, wisdom, and respect to the satisfaction of both your brother Loki, as well as the Mighty Mjolnir.

“In the interim, Mjolnir has agreed that the Crown Prince Loki is worthy and may bear her hence if he so chooses.”

What. What. _He. No. He. What?_

“As to details, I understand that Loki has already arranged honest work for you. You will be trained in how to be of assistance to one of the finest minds of Midgard, a young Human who is, on her own, building a Bifrost. Among other things.”

Thor blinked. What? The Bifrost was an ancient wonder, built of many races who--

“ _Listen well, Thor,_ ” Frigga said, each word clearly enunciated.

Thor blinked again, wondering how it could get worse.

“You would do well - _very well, mark me, my son_ \- to treat the Doctor Jane Foster with every ounce of courtesy that you possess.” An intensity seemed to pass on Frigga’s face that Thor did not understand at all, but it was over in a moment. “You will be primarily responsible to her, and her word is your law. You will be ultimately responsible to Loki, and he holds your fate in his hands. My trust in him is complete.”

Thor’s mouth gaped slightly.

“There are many interesting things afoot in Midgard in this century, my son. You will witness the cusp of a changing world. And if you do not take your cues, learn your lessons, and change with it, you will die there,” Frigga said, and then more quietly, “And there I will mourn you.”

Thor’s chest constricted. She meant he… He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t die in battle, there. He wouldn’t have a proper funeral. _He wouldn’t be admitted into the halls of Valhalla._ His eyes filled with tears as the horror of it sank in.

“This is your last chance, Thor,” she said quietly. “Learn from your brother’s example. Walk in his shadow, a while, and discover the man you truly are. The man I know you can be.”

Thor watched hollowly as his mother nodded to a guard he couldn’t see. The energy barrier that separated them shimmered out of existence and he walked forward, slowly, hopping down out of his once-cage.

He met her eyes and saw them narrow on him. The frisson across his skin told him that she’d just cleaned him with magic. No, of course he would not get the luxury of the baths. Another moment and his hair was shorn, his beard trimmed, his nails clipped, and his clothes changed. She raised one hand to his forehead.

“A rune to make your speech understood, another for you to understand, and a third to keep from being recognized by any but those Loki or I allow.”

She stepped back from him, both hands behind her back once more and a guard came forward with wrist restraints. Another ducked into the cell and Thor could hear him clearing out the books, his favorite bearskin rug, and the blanket his mother had woven for him when he was but two centuries old. It all went into a large trunk which was then offered to them both. Thor took one handle and Frigga the other, and then he had to blink the splendor out of his eyes.

The Observatory, barren of its usual occupant, with only an older Human man and a pretty little Human girl who seemed to detest him on sight.

Thor sighed as his mother removed the restraints. Their momentary purpose, he supposed, was humiliation in the sight of these Humans. He took his trunk from his mother and set it at his feet.

Only then did he notice what she held in her other hand. What she must have been holding this entire time, just out of his sight and certainly out of his ken.

Mjolnir.

Thor just stared at her, tried to speak to her in his mind, only to be met with silence.

_‘Why? Why? Haven’t I always been noble of heart? Haven’t I always shown courage beyond reason? How have I failed you? How?’_

Silence was his only answer.

Then his mother was speaking again.

“Thor the Banishéd, I give you into the keeping of Doctor Jane Foster, and so, too, to the keeping of Loki of Asgard, Crown Prince and Ambassador to Midgard, who knows under which conditions you may be allowed to return. You are not to leave Midgard unless you are under the direct supervision of your brother. This is my word, and my word is law.”

It was real. It was all, horribly real. Somehow it hadn’t been quite as real, before.

He was banished.

The Humans spoke, but he cared not. Why should he? He had been given a death sentence to the worst possible realm and his reprieve was conditional on obtaining traits he already had. Wisdom! Humility! Respect! He already had plenty of all, but if that couldn’t be seen now, how could it ever be seen?

No. His hopelessness was complete. Bereft of any good or useful plan, he numbly walked into the swirling chaos that would take him to his ignoble death.


	5. Wherein expectations are not met.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane interrupts Loki in the only way guaranteed to get his attention, Darcy is just grateful the apocalypse has not come early, and Thor reacts to Loki in a way Loki hadn’t quite anticipated. Pratchett continues to be adorable and calming, whether on screen or off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hope you enjoy the chapter. It was interesting to write. Absolutely nothing went according to plan...

Jane elected to have no Asgardian on steroids hold her hand as she made the trip back. She was entirely too pissed off for anyone to touch her just then. She stumbled a little bit on the landing, but she didn’t faceplant, and that was a win in her book. When Erik’s muscle-bound pretty boy returned from whence he came, Jane just looked at the pair of them.

Selvig looked a little green. Thor looked like his puppy just died.

Jane took a deep breath, but to no avail. The quiet of the desert which had become so familiar to her was almost soothing. But it failed. Not even the beauty of the bifrost rune, not even the joy of having had two hours to discuss the nature of the Universe and its inhabitants with the Gatekeeper, not even having Dr. Erik Selvig’s undying admiration for her being at the right place and the right time to greet the perfect problem made her feel better.

All she could think about was the overgrown brat she was landed with (and whom she was emphatically not marrying), and had to _do something with_ while the _lovebirds were off enjoying themselves having sex on every flat surface between here and Florida._

Jane was so mad she was afraid she would actually spit if she had to say much of anything at all.

Calming breaths. She needed to take some calming breaths. Because really, she needed to manage this situation, and hopefully do so with neither any yelling, nor taking it out on anyone else.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

And then a thought occurred to her.

This wasn’t actually her problem. This was actually Loki’s problem. And she knew just exactly how to get his attention, too.

Another three deep breaths and Jane felt somewhat calmer, and even just a tiny bit evil for knowing that she was about to seriously interrupt the sexing duo and it was going to be _totally legit_.

Jane put a calm smile on her face and glanced again at the two men in front of her. Selvig looked slightly less green. Thor looked no less miserable. She reached into her pocket and pulled out two water bottles and handed them over to Erik.

“Here. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

And then she stepped into the privacy of her trailer, back at the gas station. SHIELD was definitely not allowed to monitor what she was about to do, and anyway, she wanted privacy. She’d never really prayed to anyone before.

She got down on her knees before the bed, folded her hands, bowed her head and closed her eyes. And then she wondered how on earth she was going to begin this. She’d watched plenty of other people pray. On TV. It didn’t look that difficult. There seemed to be a bit of a formula involved. Extoll the virtues of said god, ask for what you want, promise something maybe, point out how much better life would be, and then close with more extolling of virtues and an amen. And if that wasn’t exactly right, it was probably close enough.

And it wasn’t, for the record, that Jane considered Loki a god or her God, but she knew he could hear prayers addressed to him (however that worked, and she really wanted to know, so she filed it under Loki and Telepathy in the long list of questions in her mental filing cabinet of questions) of those people who were liars, mischievous, or particularly chaotic. And apparently, though it made little sense to Jane, she fell into the lattermost category.

Jane cleared her throat and realized just the depth of how stupid she felt.

Ah, fuck it. The situation merited it.

She squeezed her eyes tight and her hands tighter, and cleared her throat.

“Crown Prince Loki, God of Chaos, Chief Maker of Mischief, Ruler of Those Who Lie, Master Sorcerer, Patron of Midgardian Scientists and Ambassador to the entire realm, hear my plea. Kindly get your ass and the ass of your wife temporarily back to New Mexico and deal with your brother, who is now a resident of that state, due to the excellent and prescient timing of your otherwise sainted mother, whom I adore in every other respect. I’ll be calling you on your cell phones in just a minute, but I thought you’d like a heads up, in case, you know, you were busy. Doing something. I don’t know. Like, Darcy.

“Thank you for your attention, Loki. I promise not to be weird about the fact that I just prayed to you and interrupted, well, possibly interrupted, well, nevermind.

“I’ll be a good little agent of chaos if I possibly can, and I promise not to resent you too much for having to deal with your brother, so long as you _get the hell back here right the hell now_. Thank you. You’re awesome. And Mischievous. But this better not be a manifestation of that.

“Anyway. Amen.”

Feeling quite satisfied with her first ever formal prayer, Jane got up and took her cell phone out of her pocket and proceeded to call Darcy as she walked out of her trailer and sought out a Coke from the fridge in the gas station.

* * *

Loki cut himself off mid-sentence and had that faraway look that Darcy was just starting to realize meant he was listening to something that wasn’t, strictly speaking, occurring in the room. Unless you counted the inside of his head. Which Darcy, strictly speaking, didn’t.

She was dying to interrupt him, but thought better of it. It was really hard, however, to not think about interrupting him. Her mind was like a barrel of monkeys sometimes. Particularly when she wanted it to be quiet and chill out. And now was one of those times. So, yeah. Meditation was a nonstarter. Instead, she tried to focus on what they’d been discussing.

Jane. And the fact that they were going to be related at some point in the future. (Because Darcy refused to think about the other alternative, where she died and Jane took her place at some point. It was one thing to be okay with it in theory, it was another thing to fully accept it and have it in the back of her mind for planning purposes. No. Just… no.) It was a weirdness that they hadn’t really touched upon in more than a week, since the Disastrous Dinner, as Darcy sometimes called it. (Other times she called it the Wedding Feast of Awesome.)

Honestly, Darcy was kind of neutral about Jane as a new part of her new family. She didn’t find it as terrible and awful as Jane did (admittedly, it wasn’t her life). And it wasn’t like she was celebrating her new bestie getting to be co-princess with her, because Jane was cool, but she wasn’t actually Darcy’s new bestie. That honor went to Loki. The weird bit was Frigga’s major oops. She wouldn’t have forgotten, and if she couldn’t see it, it can’t have changed the outcome. Unless of course it was meant to happen this way - one of Jane’s life lessons, or something. But then that would mean that Frigga had meant to communicate it to Jane, which she couldn’t physically do. And ‘leave it for her to find,’ Loki assured her, totally counted as ‘communicate it to her.’

Which left Darcy’s brain in a tiny bit of a knot. It wasn’t quite the like knots her brain got into when she thought about the possibilities of time travel, as all good science fiction geeks have considered at one point or another, but it was close.

Of course, Loki was right in the middle of explaining how his own brain _wasn’t_ in a knot when he thought about his mother’s gift, and Darcy had high hopes that his explanation would transcend cultural differences and make perfect sense to her. Except that now he was receiving something on a different frequency and she was _dying to know what the hell it--_

Loki’s gaze snapped back to hers and he extracted himself from the cuddle puddle they’d made for themselves underneath the blankets. Turns out Loki enjoyed a lower ambient room temperature, if given the choice, but didn’t mind snuggling and stealing all of Darcy’s body heat under toasty warm blankets.

“Get dressed for travelling, love. Where’s your phone? And you’ll want your trunk. Hm… No, we can talk about that later.”

Darcy just stared at Loki. He was looking… well, not frantic. He’d been close to frantic that first night at four in the morning when his mother pinged him that she was about to skype. But then he--

Darcy blinked.

Her phone rang. At the same moment Loki blinked and changed his clothes… Into his full battle armor. Not the ceremonial stuff. The battle stuff. With his favorite blades strapped to his thighs. And the hat. The one that meant business.

Darcy just stared at him. Her phone rang again. She distantly recognized that it was Jane’s ringtone. The sense of foreboding hung out just beyond her recognition, waiting for her to snap out of it.

Loki summoned the phone to his hand and Darcy watched as it zoomed across the room, landing in his palm with a sharp clap. It was a seriously neat trick, she thought, distantly.

But something has gone wrong, Darcy realized. That’s what all this meant. A thought that this was going to be the first moment of many, just like this, hung out behind the sense of foreboding, waiting patiently in line for Darcy’s mental processes to come back online.

“All shall be well, sweetheart,” Loki said, offering the phone to her. “But you must answer the phone and talk to Jane. And if you would put it on the speakerphone function, I would be much obliged.”

Darcy gave herself a little shake and punched the green icon and then the speakerphone icon. She swallowed, the words coming from somewhere she wasn’t aware of.

“What’s going on and why is Loki in armor?” her voice sounded far away, even to her. Because that’s how this would go, right? Loki gets a faraway look, like Batman spying the Batsignal over someone’s shoulder, and then all of a sudden it’s time for the business. Time for armor and urgency and leaving Darcy alone in bed, confused and worried that this time, this time he was going to get hurt. Or die. Maybe not this time. Maybe not the next time. But this is how it would go. The faraway look, the armor, the departure… And one day he doesn’t come back. Darcy could see the future quite clearly for the briefest of instants, spinning out before her like a runaway ball of yarn.

“His brother is here,” Jane said, knocking her out of her own dire imaginings.

“Oh.” Darcy’s brain finally went blip, and then rebooted. It was not an emergency. No one was dead. Loki was not going to his death. The world hadn’t been invaded.

Well, not really.

Well… sort of.

Darcy started to giggle.

“This is _not_ funny, Darcy!” Jane sounded irritated.

Darcy’s giggles turned into full on laughter. It wasn’t really that she thought it was so funny. It was more that her mind had jumped to ridiculous assumptions, all sorts of stress hormones started flinging themselves around her body and now she realized that really, everything was fine. Dramatic, but fine.

“ _DARCY_!” Jane yelled.

“May I explain, my love?” Loki asked patiently.

Darcy tossed him the phone and waved him on with the same hand, having fallen back on the bed. She was still laughing. God, it felt good. Like, the-apocalypse-has-been-averted-by-Buffy-again, good.

“Please pardon my wife, Jane. I hadn’t had an opportunity to communicate anything of substance to her, and in my haste I believe I only worried her further. She is quite relieved that none of her tragic and grave imaginings have come to pass. Now, where are you, and where is he?”

“He is at the bifrost rune. With a friend of mine. I am at the gas station, kicking back and having a Coke, and ten minutes of calm and solace to myself. I’m also petting my cat, because he’s extremely soothing.”

“You have a cat?” Darcy asked, then started with another peal of laughter.

“Oh, I have a cat, alright. I have a cat and you, my dear, have a brother-in-law. So, a) Loki needs to come and lay the ground rules. And b) Darcy needs to come and give him a thirty-minute do and do not course. After that, I will feed and house him for the next week until you guys come back and Darcy starts training him. But you are both going to owe me. Big time. We are talking many large favors you are going to owe me. Just so we are perfectly clear. Because this? This is not what we agreed to.”

“Five?” Loki asked, still holding the phone.

“What?” Jane echoed.

“Would five large favors from each of us suffice?”

Darcy blinked at his specificity. And then wondered if owing a favor might not actually be a kind of a big thing in his culture. Like a certain kind of currency.

“Um. Yes. Yes. Five. Each. Big ones. I mean _big ones_. I don’t even know what they could be, but they’re going to be big.”

 _‘I apologize my love,’_ Loki said, speaking directly into her mind. _‘I thoughtlessly began negotiating on your behalf without asking your permission. Is this arrangement permissible for you?’_

Darcy tried to collect herself and act like an adult. She cleared her throat and managed to put a passable serious face on. She nodded. It was fine.

“Then we are agreed, Jane Foster, on behalf of myself and my wife.”

“Good. Well. Good. Okay. Good. I’ll meet you in ten minutes at the bifrost rune.”

Jane hung up and Loki placed her cell phone on the bed side table.

“Fetch your trunk, darling. Let us be quick so that this may be quickly done and quickly finished.”

Darcy cleared her throat again. She still had the urge to laugh, but she decided that this was one of those moments when she really needed to pull her shit together and do what Loki needed.

But she did wonder why, if they were crunched for time, he didn’t stop it and give them more. She raised an inquiring eyebrow and wondered if he could hear her, or if his focus was totally elsewhere.

_‘I know not what state my brother may be in, nor what I may need to do. I would prefer to conserve my energy, love.’_

She sighed and nodded. That made perfect sense, actually.

Darcy hopped off the bed and walked over to the trunk which lay resting on a table across the room. “Okay. You’re wearing battle armor. What’s appropriate for me to wear?”

“I believe you’ve been provided with a full set of armor?”

Darcy raised her eyebrows as her head slowly rotated around to get a good look at him. For reals?

“You do know I’m more likely to accidentally hurt myself than anyone else if there’s violence, right?” She asked, stating the obvious but somehow feeling it necessary.

“I do not wish you to engage anyone in battle, my love. I wish for you to appear every inch a shield maiden. Pull out your coronet as well. And that cape my mother gave you.” Loki continued to describe which items he wanted her to wear, and Darcy pulled them out as fast as she could find them. The leather dominatrix pants. The shit-kicking boots. A black shirt. A green corsety vest thing. A pair of black leather gloves with really strange cuffs. Her long battle daggers and short sword, still attached to the belt, and extra leather strips that Loki started fiddling with the moment she handed over the whole ensemble to him. And then Darcy pulled out a stunning amount of armor. Everytime she took out a piece, she held it up for inspection, and Loki just said, ‘yes’. She also grabbed a bra and some clean undies. Purely by coincidence, they happened to be a matching set in green and black that was recently purchased in Dallas. She donned them, and then wandered out of the room.

“Darcy?” Loki called, concern lacing his voice.

“Trust me. I need to pee before we stuff me into those leather pants. It’s quicker this way.”

He said nothing else on the subject.

Darcy wondered what state of mind Thor would be in that her appearing as a shield maiden would make things better. Mostly because Darcy really wasn’t anything of the kind, though she had a feeling she was about to look the most badassed she’d ever looked in her life.

Was this about Thor? Or… was it about Loki?

She sighed. Sweet Jesus, how could she have forgotten about Loki’s fears, even momentarily? God, she was a terrible wife. She really was. At least she would look like her ‘no’ meant no, and could back up her words with the edge of a knife. Even if she had the same chance of accidentally dropping said knife on her foot and stabbing herself through her boot. But Thor didn’t know that. At least not immediately.

Darcy washed her hands and finished up in the bathroom to find that the bed was made and her armor and clothing were laid out on it. She blinked. Loki hadn’t done it with magic, she was pretty sure. Which meant that he was pretty fast making a bed. Darcy had to admire the further display of domestic skills in her royal husband. For some strange reason, it kind of turned her on, though now was clearly not the time.

She pulled on the leather pants, finding them much easier to put on than she would have thought. The lacing was strange, but not completely unfamiliar at this point. They fit her like a glove, but she could still move quite well. The shirt, tucked in, and then the corsety vest thing was next. Her boots - no socks, weird but true - were quick to put on. She stood still while Loki quickly armed her, placing the metal bits and adjusting straps, occasionally murmuring questions to her about fit and comfort. His hands were gentle as he wrapped her weapons belt around her waist, fastening it so it was a bit tighter than when she wore a skirt, but still not as tight as she would wear a belt with jeans. He knelt in front of her and tied the bottom of the daggers to her thighs. When he was finished she only had the tiara - and her hair - and the cape and gloves left. He looked up, still kneeling before her, hands on her thighs, fingers resting between the stiff leather of her dagger sheaths and the supple leather of her dominatrix pants.

“I would take but a moment of our precious time, my darling, to tell you how supremely lovely I find you. I am terribly sorry our time together has been interrupted in order that we may take care of this situation. And yet I am so grateful, so very grateful, my love, that once you understood, your first thoughts were so very generous. Your first thoughts are always so generous. I would not take your generosity for granted, my Darcy. Thank you.”

Darcy grinned ruefully. Her first, first thoughts, before she understood what was going on were far from generous. They were pure panic. Did he know? Had he heard, or just guessed what was in her head? When they had time, she would ask.

“You’re welcome. And anyway, Thor being Jane’s Darcy-replacement was my idea.” Darcy paused, the grin falling from her face. “But even if it weren’t, I’d still want to help. And, I love you.”

He stood and kissed her. It was way too quick, but understandably so, Darcy thought.

Loki pulled her Invisibility Cloak off the bed and arranged it so that it wasn’t tied right at her throat, but rather around one of the chest straps. It still hung in the same place, but it didn’t tug on her neck.

“You are really good at this,” she quietly commented as he arranged her cloak so that it hung behind her like a cape, not even draping over her shoulders.

“Practice,” he replied, just as quietly. He handed her the gloves and placed the crown on her head and pulled some of her hair out from under it so that it lay over the back of the thing. But that was so not going to fly. No. They had time. She needed to go fix her hair.

“Darling,” he interjected, gently. “You look _stunningly_ beautiful. Please don’t fret.” He shifted and led her the few steps to a large mirror. He stood behind her with his hands on her waist and simply stared into her eyes. He seemed to be daring her to contradict him.

She couldn’t. Darcy was, in fact, stunned. She’d imagined she would look badassed, but really, she’d had no frame of reference.

They looked _completely surreal._

At some point she was going to need to learn how to use all this stuff, Darcy thought vaguely, just before Loki pulled her around and kissed her like he meant it.

Oh, and she really, really wanted to have sex, possibly against the mirror, right the hell now.

Loki laughed, moving his mouth away from hers and down to her throat. “After this is done, my darling. I promise.”

“Good,” Darcy groaned.

* * *

The argument over who should teleport them there was minor and quickly won by Darcy. He’d said after all that he wanted to conserve his strength, and it would be weird for them to arrive apart if they were actually, you know, arriving together.

Gloved hand met gloved hand. Darcy looked up at him. One moment he seemed way intimidating, and the next minute rather silly in his rather silly hat. This was a silly moment.

“Any last words?” she asked.

Loki raised an eyebrow. Then narrowed his eyes. “Don’t run away with my brother, even if the urge is keen. Remember, I can give you more and better orgasms than he can.”

Darcy raised both eyebrows and snorted in disbelief. Because he actually just said that. “Okay. That’s very clear. Thanks. Um…. right. I feel like I should say something. But after that, I’m not sure what.”

“‘My darling Loki,’” he began, apparently as a suggestion, “‘There is no other man I could possibly love, now that I have met you…’ Perhaps?”

There was the slightest indication on his face that he was being mischievous, and Darcy seriously wondered at his timing.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. He needed assurance - that was obvious, even through his humor - but his lack of trust was grating on her nerves ever so slightly. Here she was, dressed like this just to support him and he imagines that now is the time she’s going to run off with his brother?

Well. He needed support. He would have her support. But it would be _hers. Undeniably hers._

“Yo, Loki, your cocks rock my world and I dig being a diplomat with you. I’m not going anywhere but at your side, you big blue galoot. Now let’s get this party started, yeah?”

“Indeed.”

Damn his smile was wicked good, even if his sense of worth was in crisis...

* * *

The bifrost rune was easy to imagine, but she didn’t want to come in right at the center of it, even though that’s where her strongest memory was - sitting with Loki in the middle. About twenty feet away from the edge should be good, Darcy thought. She imagined how it looked as she and Jane approached it on foot. The odd rock formations off in the distance on the left. How the dark marks of the rune itself seemed like some kind of labyrinth until you’re right up on them. She imagined it clearly and took a step forward.

The change in her senses assaulted her all at once. The smell was different - fresh, warm, dry, and desertish. The sound was different - the ever present electric hum of civilization was gone. And of course, her ears popped. Darcy had somehow forgotten that this part of the desert was seriously above sea level. How much she wasn’t sure, because a) there was no cell phone service out here for her to Google it, and b) her phone was in Louisiana. Which, as everyone knew, was about two feet below sea level.

Darcy glanced over at Loki and squeezed his hand before letting go of it. He needed to go deal with his brother. Jane wasn’t back yet, but would be, soon, and Darcy intended to go introduce herself to the other guy. It was probably Jane’s colleague they’d contacted the day Loki arrived.

Loki smiled at her and strode toward the rune, disappeared for a moment, and then was even closer to his destination - the dude chilling in the center. Brothers. Weirdly alike, really.

Darcy walked over to the older guy standing off to the side with two bottles of water. He noticed her coming toward him and started, probably in alarm. She was looking pretty crazy, after all.

She put a perky smile on her face.

“Hi there!” she called over to him. “You must be Dr. Selvig. Very nice to meet you. I’m Jane’s intern. Darcy Lewis,” she said, coming close enough to offer her hand. “Well, formerly Darcy Lewis. Darcy of Asgard, now.” She smiled wider and waited for the good doctor to blink a few times, then take her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, his voice present but his attention absent.

“Jane will be back in just a minute. But, if you’re not comfortable here, I’d be happy to take you back to the gas station, right now. You could lie down. Or throw up. Or, you know, whatever you like, really.”

Jane’s friend’s eyes snapped to hers. “You can do that, too?”

Darcy nodded.

“Yes, please. This has been a very strange afternoon.”

Darcy held out her hand for the Norwegian scientist, confident that Loki was paying enough attention to her conversation to know what she was doing, and if not, would simply trust her to return immediately.

_‘Darling, go, and stay there for now. You will be more comfortable, and this conversation may be one I need to have with Thor alone. I will bring him along as soon as I can. If it looks to be more than an hour, I will alert you.’_

Well, okay. That works out. And wasn’t what she’d thought was going to happen, but whatever. Plans change. With Loki, she noted, plans changed early and often.

* * *

Loki walked toward his brother as the older man sat in the center of the rune. He faced away, his back was bowed, his legs crossed, his elbows on his thighs and his face in his hands, the perfect picture of disconsolate woe.

He made himself invisible, allowing Darcy to see that he was doing something, even though he wasn’t explaining himself fully just at present. He turned course then and silently made his way around to the side of Thor away from Darcy. If the worst should occur, he did not want to draw his brother’s ire toward her. Meanwhile he cast a full illusion of himself, striding toward Thor on his previous course.

Loki did something then, as he slowed his and his illusion’s pace, that he but rarely did with his brother. He tried to read him. Normally he didn’t bother, as Thor was neither chaotic (his thoughts and his messes being quite predictable), nor a liar, but Loki wondered…

And indeed. Well. Mother seemed not to have softened any of her blows. And now Thor was in a profound state of denial, lying quite liberally to himself. Loki could, in fact, help to untangle some of the self-deception, but the damage was already done, and so any of his efforts would necessarily need to proceed with the tiniest of increments to allow Thor’s mind to heal.

Loki sighed. If Thor remained unwilling, simply getting him to stop lying to himself was going to take months. And then the true lessons his mother desired for him would begin.

 _Please_ , he thought in the direction of his brother. _For once in your charmed life, have a care for the inconvenience of others and bloody well learn your lessons in a timely manner, won’t you?_ He thought in vain, however, and he knew it.

Idly, Loki also followed along with Darcy’s friendly introduction to yet another stranger in the middle of the desert. When she offered to take Jane’s associate back to the comforts of the village, he mentally encouraged her to do so and remain. He would be along as quickly as he could, with Thor in tow.

Loki’s illusion brushed his palms across his daggers, appearing to place them back in his store, followed finally by his helm. Perhaps he wouldn’t need the appearance of the weapons in the conversation, but the illusion itself would remain, at least for now. As he himself drew within a stone’s toss of his brother, he heard a different voice in his mind.

_‘Well met, Loki, son of Odin and Laufey. Your fathers are great, and pleased I am that you have followed in the footsteps of the honorable victor. It is my honor to serve one such as you, and I will continue until such a time as we are agreed that Thor, the Banished, need no longer be so.’_

An unpleasant chill crawled up Loki’s spine. Several things clamored for his attention. First things came first, however.

 _Who do I have the honor of addressing?_ Loki asked, though he had an inkling of who it might be.

_‘I am she who was forged from the heart of a dying star.’_

Loki stopped again, in both truth and illusion, swallowing heavily and controlling his thoughts.

_Mighty Mjolnir, it is I who am honored. I greatly look forward to an association with you, though I honestly do not believe I will much need the services of such an esteemed instrument as yourself. I have come to this realm in peace and wish to do no battle, if such may be avoided._

_‘May it be as you wish, Loki Twice-Born. I leave you to your brother. Do right by him.’_

In the few moments that followed the silence as Loki stood, staring with unseeing eyes at both the back and the front of his brother, he reached for his calm center and breathed deeply until he could feel it all around him.

Laufey. He knew the name. How could he not know the name of the king of Jotunheim? _Laufey was my father?_

 _O, Odin, say you did not steal me away as one more spoil of war!_ No. No, that was a ridiculous thought. Odin did not need an heir and the last thing he would have wanted was a Jotunn boy-child. Unless he somehow saw that he was a shapeshifter? The possibilities and ramifications began to clamor for attention in his mind.

Loki clamped down on his thoughts, quickly reciting the seven principles of magic and the four axioms of illusions.

Another deep breath. In truth, he was tiny for a frost giant, though he stood amongst the tallest of the Aesir. Loki did not need to stretch his imagination to consider that he might have been a runt of an infant and so abandoned, given what he knew about Jotunheim. More difficult was it to imagine that Odin would have rescued such a babe in need… but in truth, Loki knew that Odin loved him. He loved him now, and perhaps - just perhaps - the love between father and son had an ignoble start as between warrior and innocent.

O, but they would have much to say, indeed, when Odin awoke.

Another deep breath. Loki continued his illusion forward, humbled and shaken. He would have his time to take in this new knowledge, but now was not that time. Now he needed to focus on his brother, and he would do so… though, perhaps not as the man who had first approached him.

Laufey!

Another deep breath.

Loki’s illusion sunk to the hard-packed red dirt, facing his brother, his knees a hand’s breadth away from Thor’s.

“Good afternoon, Brother. Welcome to Midgard,” Loki said, in Aesir.

Loki was back in Thor’s head, able to see but the lies he told to himself. It would be best, he considered, to chip away at the denial concerning Mother first. Mostly because Loki didn’t want to hear Thor complain about the woman for doing what she plainly knew to be best. If Thor could return to a place of trust in the All-Mother, it might make the rest easier to unravel.

Loki untangled two small sections of the unholy mess in his brother’s mind and vowed to himself to continue to do so in his daily meditations.

“Hello, Brother,” Thor replied quietly, in his native tongue. He did not look up, nor change his posture in anyway. His voice was somewhat muffled by his hands. “Thank you for taking me in.”

“It is the doctor Jane Foster whom you must truly thank, Brother. I remain, at this time, her guest, though it is true I am her patron also. She has agreed to extend her hospitality to you, as well as to give you meaningful work as her assistant. And it should be said that this particular area of the realm has quite a different understanding of hospitality than our own. That we remain as her guests is quite unusual and not to be taken lightly.”

Thor nodded. The motion was slight, but clear enough.

“When we are finished here, I shall take you to your accommodations. They are not grand, and in a week I shall be sharing them with you. We will move to a larger space which will afford more privacy soon, though I know not when.

“Before I leave you for the week, you will be given some basic instructions on navigating the modern conveniences and magics of the Midgardian household in which you will be residing. You need not consider that your work will begin, truly, until we return.”

For some reason he was unwilling to presently consider, Loki had been quite loathe to mention Darcy to his brother, but there at the end, his silvertongue abandoned him.

“We?”

“My wife will be residing with us. Indeed, she will be teaching you what you need to know in order to properly assist the doctor Foster. And you will afford her every courtesy as my wife and the respect due as your sister, or I promise you, Thor, I _promise you_ , I _will_ cut off whatever part of your body you have used to offend her, I _will_ roast it over an open fire as you watch, and then, my brother, I _will_ watch as you eat every savory morsel of it. On this matter I will not be forsworn, and you may consider it a light punishment indeed, as _you will still be alive_. If you remain unclear at all as to how you must act in the presence of my wife, please do make your inquiries now. Later will indeed be too late.” Loki’s voice ended with a tightness it hadn’t had at the start.

Thor’s head rose from his hands and he shifted, resting his arms on his legs. “I understand you perfectly, Brother.”

Loki met his eyes through his illusion and saw curiosity cut through the self-pity. After a long moment, Loki gave in. The latter he had expected. The former was rather a surprise.

“Ask,” the younger sibling said, after a long moment had passed.

“How did you know she was the one for you?”

Loki blinked, and the illusion did as well in the same instant. Of all the questions he had thought to field from his brother, that question had not been amongst them.

He thought of Darcy, asking him to marry her in her thoughts, several times.

He thought of Darcy’s refreshingly straightforward manner, in all things.

He thought of Darcy’s unabashed lust for him, and sexual stamina.

He thought of Darcy’s unconditional support of him when he revealed his deepest brokenness.

He thought of Darcy’s truthful, yet chaotic manner.

He thought of Darcy’s complete acceptance of him, despite what he felt about himself.

...yet none of those qualities quite answered the question.

“When I knew I could not do without her,” he said, thinking to say more, but then deciding against it. Then he decided again. “That is when I knew. As to how…” Loki thought for a moment more. “I’m not sure how to answer. To me she is the complete embodiment of perfection. The more we spoke, the clearer that became to me. There came a point at which the clarity of it was so blinding that I surrendered. I could do nothing less and still respect myself as a man.”

The curiosity in Thor’s eyes was sated and he nodded quietly. “Congratulations on finding such a woman, Loki. May she bring you every happiness.”

Loki blinked at the utter sincerity of his brother. He wondered if it would last past the point Thor saw the beautiful woman who had married his little brother. For the first time since he met Darcy, he considered the possibility that it would.

 

 


	6. Wherein transitions are made.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor learns about electricity, Darcy declares her intent to obtain her own kitten, Loki deals with Thor’s shadow once more, and Erik experiences the cognitive dissonance native to all who live with Darcy, save Loki himself. And Loki is angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, you may ask yourself, has the author forgotten to use archaic language when Thor speaks to Darcy? He uses ‘dost thou’ with Loki, but ‘do you’ with Darcy! That, dear readers, is good grammar. ‘Thou’ is the first person familiar and ‘you’ is the first person formal in English - and clearly ‘thou’ has fallen out of usage so completely such that we now consider ‘you’ to be perfectly applicable whether we know someone intimately, like a brother, or we are showing respect and deference to someone, like a sister-in-law to whom we are forbidden to be rude on pain of dismemberment and self-cannibalization. Not so, back in the day.

Loki decided it was safe enough to merge into the illusion. It was one of his very favorite tricks within his arsenal. In utter silence, Loki gingerly walked toward Thor. He could mask sight, sound, and smell, but air currents were a study in themselves and usually not worth the bother. It would not do to be caught at this point. He shifted his helm and weapons into his store and silently sat down exactly where the illusion currently sat. He affected an interested posture and then seamlessly shifted the illusion to match it.

Then Loki ended the illusion, with only Darcy the wiser, though perhaps she did not yet know how to interpret the clues he had given her. She would soon.

Loki clamped down on the tiny smile at his own cleverness. Now really wasn’t the time. And there were other things weighing on his mind.

“Thor, I would like your word that you will not give the doctor Foster any difficulties while I am away with my bride. She will not hesitate to contact me immediately if you do, and I will not hesitate to return immediately. And you should know that when I say immediately, I do mean within moments. Communication on Midgard has evolved significantly and is well advanced of Asgard. All the same, I would prefer to devote the rest of my time away exclusively to my wife. You understand,” he said, not leaving much room at all for argument.

Thor nodded, looking away again.

A memory arose, his mother asking him to be compassionate. Loki sighed internally. When he spoke again, he switched his language to English.

“This is hard for you, brother. I understand that, though I don’t pretend to know your pain. I do know, however, that you are perfectly capable of meeting the task before you, as you have done in the past. It may require new skills and awarenesses, but nothing beyond your grasp. You _can_ do this, brother. The only thing standing in your way is your own decision. Make your decision, brother, I urge you. Decide once and for all to be the man who should be king, even if it weren’t the legacy of his father. Make _that_ decision and all else will follow.”

“Thou hast given me much to consider, brother mine. I thank thee,” Thor responded, in English.

Loki blinked and realized that Thor was using the outdated English language spell. His speech would mark him as an outsider and Loki wondered briefly if his mother had gotten confused or had done it on purpose - he had made his update available to her, though his update was not, if Darcy’s reaction to his grammar was any indication, as up to date as he would have hoped. Still. It was not magic that fueled his mastery of the common tongue in this region. He had decided to relearn it learn nearly a hundred years ago, and he would continue to do so, now. Loki frankly had no such hopes for Thor.

Briefly the urge to remove the outdated spell and recast the newer one flashed across his mind, but Loki successfully crushed it. Who was he to interfere with the spellcasting of his mother? Perhaps she had reason to do as she had. It would be far better to consult with her and seek her permission to alter any of the spells laid on Thor. After all, Loki knew only a little about the sources involved with binding another’s magic. He obviously could not meddle if he knew not the consequences.

Thor would, sadly, have to suffer through the situation sounding as an outsider. Something dark and quite satisfied curled in the pit of Loki’s stomach, but he refused to name it, or even examine it too closely.

Loki mentally gave himself a shake, not at all enjoying the sudden darkness, even if he refused to look at it. He took a calming breath, though it didn’t help. He really needed to meditate. And there was no time at present to do so.

_Quickly begun, quickly finished._

“Come,” Loki said, pushing himself up to his feet and holding out a hand for Thor. “Let us away.” He pulled his brother up, and, still holding his arm, summoned his trunk with the other hand and took a step and brought him to the front courtyard of their accommodations. “Doctor Foster’s chambers are there, and within is her workshop and a small apartment for everyone else.”

“Mjolnir has been left behind, brother, and I cannot summon her.” Thor said quietly, on almost a whisper. “I would not wish… Wouldst thou bring her hence? I will wait upon thee.” Thor took his trunk from Loki’s hand and placed it at his own feet.

Loki was caught up by the tone of his brother. There was sadness, reverence, and no small amount of self-pity. Still. “Of course. I shall be but a moment.”

“I thank thee, Loki.”

Back to the bifrost rune and Loki did something he never thought he would. He held out his hand and whispered, “Mjolnir, if you would be so kind,” but before he finished, the large war hammer was flying across the short distance, the handle slapping into his palm.

She was silent and he was grateful. Once again, Loki chose not to examine his exact emotional state just at present. Primarily, there was no time. Secondarily, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what he felt, at least not right now.

A step back and Loki was returned, fully aware that he had the attention both of his brother and of the occupants of the building. He stooped down and gently placed the hammer to the right of the door, leaning against the glass wall.

“All shall be well brother,” Loki said, clapping Thor on the shoulder once the other man had bent down to pick up his trunk and straightened up again. “Let us go in and begin again.”

* * *

When Darcy stepped into the kitchen of the gas station with the Norwegian Astrophysicist in tow, the very first thing that assaulted her senses was the teeniest of tiny meows from what had to be the world’s most adorable kitten. Had to be. Just by sound alone. She let go of Selvig’s hand and turned around. Jane was sitting at the kitchen table with her feet up on it, drinking a Coke, and scurrying off her legs at a crawl that apparently involved some very sharp claws, was said kitten of awesome adorableness.

“Oh-my-god-I-so-want-a-kitten-too!” her words came out all in a gush as she crouched down and held out her hands.

“There was a whole litter there last week. I don’t know if there are any left now, or will be in another week.”

The tiny adorable kitten came galumphing toward Darcy, meowing all the way, skidding to a stop right before her outstretched hands.

“Okay. So clearly he likes you,” Jane said, feet still on her own table.

“Who’s the cutest kitten in the whole world? You are! Yes you are!” He looked like he had the softest fur, though she still had her gloves on, so she wasn’t entirely sure. Soon he was flopped down in front of Darcy, showing his belly.

“Oh, watch out, he likes to--” Jane cut herself off as she watched.

“Who’s the cutest? You are!” The kitten had clamped on to Darcy’s forearm. Happily, her gauntlet styled leather glove had it covered, despite all four sets of claws. The kitten went for a ride on the floor as Darcy wiggled her arm around, still cooing. “Who’s no match for Asgardian battle gauntlets? That would be you, you snuggly, wuggly, adorable little ball of fluff! After we’re done here, we’re going to go see if any of your brothers or sisters are still up for adoption, yes we are!”

“You’re going to take a kitten on your honeymoon?”

Darcy looked up. “Nah. If any are left, we’ll pick one out and then just pick it up next week. No worries. So what made you think of getting a kitten?” she asked, shifting to just sit on the kitchen floor to better play with the adorable fluff ball.

Darcy watched as Jane shrugged. “Mental health. After a trip to the Asgardian spa, I’ve decided that all forms of my health are more important than I’d been treating them.”

“This from the woman who is currently drinking a Coke?”

“Yes, well. Sugar and caffeine are habit forming. I’m not going cold turkey. Aiden’s been very helpful with that, by the way. Did you know that taste buds can change? I mean, literally, your tastes can change, depending on what you eat and how much of it you eat? Seriously, the scientific community knows so very little about nutrition. It’s shocking, Darcy. But we’ll fix that. Anyway, I owe you one for introducing me to your sister. Thanks.”

Darcy snorted. “Please. Take her. She’s yours.”

“Hey. Don’t be mean. I really like her, you know.”

Darcy threw up her free hand in surrender. “Okay, okay, my bad. It’s possible I still haven’t forgiven her for being a teenager all over me. I’ll work on that.”

“Ugh. Teenagers. None of us should have our teenage years held against us. Weren't we all idiots at that point?” Jane asked.

“I certainly was,” Dr. Selvig admitted from his position reaching into the fridge for a can of something cold. He pulled out an Orange Crush and popped the top.

“And some of us just haven’t quite grown out of that teenage idiocy yet, I guess,” Darcy said, only partially thinking of her sister.

“See? Exactly. And I’m sure Aiden has plenty of moments of rising to the occasion, even if she hasn’t totally left that stage yet. She will.”

“So will Thor.” Darcy didn’t dare look up. Studiously playing with the cat, that was her.

“Don’t. Even. Go there.”

“Why not? Isn’t that why I’m, in fact, here? Dressed like a frigging valkyrie?”

“Why are you here dressed like a valkyrie?” Selvig asked, now seated at the table near Jane.

“To show Thor how to use the microwave. Where’s he sleeping, by the by?” she asked, changing the subject and hoping that neither doctor would notice.

“Well, not that I’ve had a whole lot of time to think about this, but we’ve officially run out of bedrooms. When you come back, number one priority is finding us some new space. Anyway, for now--”

“He could just have our bedroom, I mean, yeah. He should. It’s cool. I can go clean my stuff out. And Loki’s easy to move. He keeps all his stuff in the interdimensional storage unit. Anyway, I really liked the hotel we stayed at in Dallas. We can commute from there. It’s cool. Hold on. Lemme go throw the sheets in the washer.” And air out the room, because of reasons. Darcy scritched the cat once more and picked him up, only to deposit him back on Jane’s lap as she passed.

Opening the window came first, because oh yeah. The room smelled like sex. And like Loki. And really, like her. Then she grabbed the sheets and towels and threw them all into the wash with extra vinegar, on hot. Finally, she materialized her trunk and opened it up on the dresser. She’d put in most of her stuff a week ago, in case she needed it, but not everything. She left the trunk on the dresser, open, and walked out of the bedroom and back into the main room.

“Hey science girl, I left my trunk open, in case you need to disappear and do something constructive somewhere else when they get back.”

“I have plenty of places to disappear to,” Jane said, acerbically.

Darcy just shrugged, trying not to take it personally.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said, sighing.

Darcy smiled. “S’okay. You’re stressed. I get it. It’s cool.” Given that information, Darcy popped back into her room and took the two minutes necessary to unceremoniously and without any organization at all dump all the rest of her stuff in four consecutive compartments in the first empty section. She closed the trunk and brought it back out into the main room, putting it against the wall. She’d call it to her at some point.

The room was still silent, and no one spoke when she approached the table. “This doesn’t have to be horrible, you know. I mean, sure, it can be,” she said, breaking the quiet. She pulled out a chair at the table next to Erik and sat down.

Jane gave her an arch look. “It’s not your life. Your life is charmed.”

Darcy snorted. “So is yours.”

Jane rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on! Admit it. What other scientist gets unlimited access to Loki, to Asgard, to magic? What other scientist gets to rewrite the laws of physics, hmm? And you know you’ll have all the time you need to do that in.”

“She’s got a point, Jane,” Erik chimed in.

“Traitor,” Jane commented before focusing all of her attention on her kitten.

“What’s his name?” Darcy asked, changing the subject again.

“Pratchett.”

Darcy’s gaze focused, her eyebrows furrowed. “As in ‘Terry’?”

“The one and only,” said Jane.

“Huh.” Darcy hadn’t ever really discussed favorite fiction with with Jane - or in this case, favorite science fiction and fantasy - and she’d never guessed the older woman would enjoy British satire couched in fantasy. Then again, there was obviously a huge amount about Jane Foster that Darcy didn’t know the first thing about. She clearly was going to be an interesting woman to get to know, once she got over this ‘Thor’ thing.

If she got over this ‘Thor’ thing.

Darcy blinked and corrected her inner monologue. When. _When_ she got over her issues with Frigga and Thor, _then_ we’d get to see the real Jane Foster again, the one Darcy had seen briefly before the wedding. The one that was pretty cool.

Speaking of Thor-thing, there he was.

“Well, that was quick,” Darcy commented, about to stand up, until she watched her husband disappear from where he’d been standing next to his brother, just outside the front door. Not for the first time, Darcy thought about how cool it was that the entire outer walls of the building - except for the residential portion - were glass panels. It was like living in a spaceship from the sixties, or something.

“They’re back?” Jane groaned, but didn’t turn around to look.

“Well, one of them is,” Erik pointed out. “Shouldn’t we, ah…”

“Oh! Loki’s back again. And he’s got, oh shit, cue the drama, Jane, because I’m pretty sure he’s holding Thor’s magic hammer, you know, the one big brother’s not allowed to use until he grows the hell up.”

“Mjolnir? Are you talking about Mjolnir? _Loki is handling Mjolnir?_ ” Erik tried to look without it looking like he was trying to look. He failed.

“I swear, it sounds like the hammer is called ‘Mewmew’.”

Erik looked over at her. “You’re really not who I thought you’d be, when Jane described you.”

Darcy quirked an eyebrow up. “You mean a totally hip millennial, majoring in political science, with amazing sense in hand-knitted hats who totally won the Right Place, Right Time Lottery?” Her armor gently clanged and her leather creaked softly as she shifted, getting up from the table.

“Ah, no.”

Jane snorted. “It could hardly be called a lottery if Frigga saw you coming four hundred years away.”

“Whaevs. Come on, guys. I think it’s proper introduction time.”

Jane audibly sighed, but she got up.

There was a terse and quiet moment as the five came to rest in the middle of the space. Thor put his trunk down at his feet and the sound seemed too sharp, too loud for the space, despite the twenty foot ceiling. This, Darcy was sure, was her new definition of awkward. Well, she was at least partially responsible, so she should probably break the ice.

Huh. Break the ice. Really, it wasn’t just ice. There were giant icebergs in this room. Glaciers, even. Global warming was going to be needed, here.

“Loki, I’d like you to meet Dr. Erik Selvig of Norway. He is an astrophysicist and a friend and colleague of Jane’s.” Darcy turned to Erik. “Dr. Selvig, it is an honor to present to you, my husband, His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Loki of Asgard. He is the Master of Chaos, Lies, and Mischief, a Master Sorcerer, and the Ambassador to Earth. He is also Jane’s Patron, as you may have heard.”

They shook hands, and all seemed to be okay. Maybe this would just be okay?

Then Loki spoke. “Jane, have you and Dr. Selvig been properly introduced to my brother?”

“Not exactly,” she admitted.

He nodded.

“Well, then. I would like to introduce you all to my brother, Thor, who will be staying with us until further notice. Thor, this is my wife, Darcy Jackdottir, formerly of Midgard.” Thor bowed to her as Darcy just watched, wondering how Loki was doing. His voice was so… flat. “This is Dr. Jane Foster, a brilliant astrophysicist, and under the patronage of myself and the All-Mother. And Dr. Erik Selvig, friend to Dr. Foster.”

Thor bowed to each. Jane just swallowed harshly, squeezing out a completely insincere and nearly whispered, “Nice to meet you.” Erik bowed, but not particularly well.

Oh, awkward. How to shake hands was obviously going to be on her ‘Teach Thor Obvious Things’ list.

“Well,” Darcy said with enthusiasm she didn’t quite feel. “Let’s get this party started, shall we? Thor, why don’t you bring your trunk and follow me?” She walked ahead, still talking. “So, when was the last time you were on Midgard?”

“In my youth, my lady.”

“Right. So, before indoor plumbing. Or electricity. Got it. Okay.” Darcy went into her old room. “You’ll be staying in here for now. Sheets for the bed and towels for the bath are being washed right now, but if they’re not done before I go, Jane will hook you up.” She proceeded to explain how the window worked, as well as the light switch and electrical outlet. It took three tries until he understood what she was trying to convey.

“Do you mean to say that Midgardians have tamed lightning and have it piped into every dwelling? And they use it to power their magic?” he asked, crouched by the outlet near the floor, stroking the outside of the plastic cover with a gentleness that could totally pass for reverence.

“Essentially. Except that we can make our own lightning. And it’s predictable, not tame. Don’t stick your finger, or a piece of bare metal in there, or splash water on it. That’s a good way to fry yourself and maybe not survive to tell the tale. Or possibly burn down your entire house.” Darcy went on to explain how to turn on the bedside lamp without damaging it.

“If you don’t want to live out of your trunk, there is a chest of drawers here and the closet is over there. Now come on and I’ll show you how the bathroom works.”

Maybe the most embarrassing part of Darcy’s year was showing Thor how to use the toilet and warning him not to throw anything but toilet paper down there.

She heard the washer finish the short cycle she’d put it on and paused the show and tell to throw the load into the dryer.

“Okay! Kitchen next. Follow me.” The refrigerator was easy, the stove was off limits for now. “This is the microwave. If someone asks you to put something in here, make sure there is no metal, or there will be more uncontrollable lightning and explosions that will burn our home to the ground.”

“Yes, my lady,” Thor said again, quietly.

The honorific was kind of weirding her out, especially from Loki’s brother, but she knew better than to ask him to knock it off. Thor being more familiar with her, well, that was probably a bad idea on a lot of levels.

“Okay! Toaster oven. Less likely to make things explode, but you can still burn your house down with it. Only use it for the first couple of times when someone asks you to and when they stick around to supervise, okay?”

“Yes, my lady.”

She showed him where all the dishes were, frankly stunned at how much room they took up when they were all clean and stacked away. Jane was really turning over a new leaf. She explained about clean up after meals, and that he would be expected to help, and how to do that. She showed him where the garbage can was, where the bags were, and where the outside ubersized garbage can was located so that he could at least take the garbage out by himself. She showed him where the broom and the mop were and clearly explained that if he broke anything, it was his responsibility to clean it up completely. And if someone else broke something, it was his job to help.

Darcy turned to ask Jane if she’d missed anything, but was caught off guard when she saw that all three were just staring. At least Dr. Selvig had the decency to look away and pretend he hadn’t been staring. Loki was standing in a near slouch, his hands behind his back, most of his weight on one foot and his face looked very odd. It was like he was going for bored but forgot to get rid of angry first. Jane had her arms crossed over her chest in the international sign for ‘this sucks and I’m not happy’, but was clearly trying to have a neutral face. Except she forgot to tell the rest of her body to be neutral. And looking over at them, each of the three set off Darcy’s weird-o-meter in an entirely different way.

“Right. Okay. Anything major I missed? Okay then. In that case, Loki and I have an elsewhere to be. Dr. Selvig, it was very nice to meet you. I look forward to speaking to you more when we get back. Jane, the load’s in the dryer. Would you mind making the bed and folding the towels?”

Jane shrugged. “It’s fine. I got it.”

Her armor shifted and her leather sighed as she walked over to stand next to Loki wondering what in hell he must be thinking and if they’d really be having sex when they returned, or more likely, decompressing from the weirdness. And the awkwardness. And, yeah.

Darcy tucked her hand in the crook of his arm which instantly came alive when she touched him. Hands out from behind him and he had one gloved hand over hers, holding her hand in place on his arm. Also, he stopped slouching. What on earth was with the slouching, anyway? Loki never slouched before. For just a moment he’d looked so _petulant_.

“Well, then,” Loki drawled. “We shall bid you good day. Do call us if you need us.”

With that, they were gone. What Darcy didn’t expect was where they went.

* * *

“That went well,” Darcy said.

Loki let out a deep sigh he hadn’t realized was in him and strode away from her. “I am very angry,” he admitted.

“Kay,” Darcy replied, her tone careful and wary.

“Not with you,” he pointed out, pacing back toward her, and then away again.

“But you need to let go of some of that rage, hence us being in the middle of nowhere.”

He nodded curtly. After a long moment, it dawned on him that he should ask, rather than assume. “Go back to the hotel if you wish.”

He watched as she shook her head. “Nah. I’m good. Do what you need to do.”

“I do not wish to frighten you.” He knew his tone was overly sharp, though he had not meant for it to be so.

“Honestly, Loki. I’d rather be here with you. Do you need to meditate, or…”

He pulled his daggers out from the store and materialized a ring of training targets around himself, far enough away from Darcy. His physical training was at least good for this: it did drain away his rage quite successfully.

“Okay. Right. I’m just going to be quietly supportive over here.”

Loki’s sense of time faded as his muscles strained and his instincts reacted to the attack of the targets as he put them in motion. He tried not to think at all, but when he did his thoughts kept circling around Thor and King Laufey of Jotunheim.

Thor was on his best behavior, but his best behavior would not last very long, and Loki knew quite well the state of his denial. Could it be possible that he would learn even a fraction of his lessons before the facade crumbled? Would it be easier or harder for him to learn, then? And would he strain their relationship with Jane? And could Loki himself manage to be the man he wanted to be, living once more in the shadow of Thor, the Mighty? Would he end up shaming himself in front of Darcy, holding too tightly onto childhood grievances and the subtle but painful contests he had always been in with his brother? That they had had right up until he’d left Asgard for Earth?

Farther away from his brother his vision was always clearer in this regard. Farther away from Thor, Loki had such clarity concerning the man he wanted to be. But actually living in such close proximity to him, so soon after leaving might very well drive Loki mad. He’d thought to have more time than this. Since when did Mother’s sense of ‘soon’ mean less than a year? This hadn’t been ‘soon’. It had been ‘immediately’.

And then there was King Laufey - Loki was simply stunned. How? Why? Was he stolen or rescued? Abandoned or kidnapped? He hadn’t thought that he could ever possibly know the Jotunn who had given him life, though he admittedly had not given it too much thought at all. But now he did know, now he would think. Did Loki have a duty to inform Laufey? Would that even be welcomed? Certainly Loki had a duty to Odin and Asgard, ever more so if Thor did not, as his love so succinctly put it, _grow the hell up_. He could not, he imagined, be prince to both realms, if such even became an issue. To accept one would be the denial of the other, and he knew which he would choose. It would be Asgard. It would always be Asgard. Even with its faults and its hubris, Asgard was home. Adoptive, perhaps, but home nonetheless.

And so he trained on, straining and pushing himself until he could feel no more rage, though the uncertainty and confusion would remain until he meditated.

Loki called off the targets a moment before he stopped fighting them. Panting, he collapsed to his knees on the dirty, dusty ground. He let his knives fall out of his hands and into his store. He heard the crunch of Darcy’s boots as she approached him, but did not at present have the energy, nor even the wherewithal to raise his head.

The dust of the desert had dimmed the polish on her boots, he noted idly.

Then she was sitting in front of him, her legs folded up in front of her. Then shifting away from him. Then her head was in view as she’d contorted her body sideways. Her hair dragged on the ground, and she had to put a hand to her head to keep the coronet in place.

“Hi.”

“Hello, love.”

“How are you feeling?” she asked gently, with a small smile.

“Sad. Tired. Confused.” He knew his voice lacked anything like his usual tone.

“But not angry?”

“No. I am no longer angry, at least.”

“Well, that’s an improvement, right?” Her hopefulness was undimmed, even stuck as it was, sideways with her captivating eyes that seemed to him to twinkle.

He nodded.

“So. Um. Do you want to share why you’re sad and confused? And tired? I mean, if tired is more of an emotional thing than a physical thing?”

“My brother annoys me. I resent his being here. I worry that I cannot be the man I wish to be, standing once more in his shadow. And also,” he paused to sigh. “Mjolnir told me who my true father was. Is.” Loki watched as Darcy’s eyes widened.

“Wuh… we’ll come back to Thor in a minute. Mjolnir is the big hammer, right? How does a big hammer know who your real dad is?”

“Mjolnir is a sentient and intensely magical weapon. How she knows anything at all is utterly beyond my comprehension, Darcy.”

Darcy nodded. “So. Who’s your dad? I mean, your other dad?”

“The King of Jotunheim.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“The arguably evil King of Jotunheim.”

“Double fuck.”

“Yes. Double fuck,” Loki replied in tired agreement.

“Well, at least you’ve got some serious pedigree.”

His laugh was barely audible. It felt quite hollow in his chest.

“And also, this is the final nail in the coffin of the nature vs. nurture debate. Nurture obviously wins, and Frigga is a rockstar all over again.”

Loki did not admit aloud that he had no idea what Darcy was on about, excepting the compliment to his mother. “Let us return to the comfort of our hotel, darling. I must spend time in meditation to sort myself out, but I would prefer to do it amidst the chaos and comfort of New Orleans.”

When he’d finished speaking, Darcy’s trunk appeared in her lap. “I’m ready. You gonna do the honors? You’ll have to stand up if you want me to do it. I don’t think I can, sitting down.”

Loki wordlessly held out his hand and waited for her to take it. Her hands were bare, he noted. In a moment they were sitting on the floor of their suite, between the bed and the bath. After all, it was his heart that was tired, not his magic.

* * *

Watching Loki meditate was, actually, boring. Darcy didn’t want to admit it. She wanted to be the supportive wife who could just stand in vigil, or something, and just  _be there_ when he was finished, all concern and love and stuff.

Yeah, no. The boredom was killing her. Also, she had some of her own stress to deal with.

She’d realized when he was training - getting his rage out? - that she was actually stuck in her armor. Some buckles she could reach. And some were behind her shoulder blades. So she did at least remember to ask him when they returned to the hotel to unbuckle the impossible ones before he got started. And once he started meditating, she changed clothes into something appropriate for the fitness suite she’d seen advertized, hoping beyond hope that they had an elliptical machine. Those things were cool. Also, Darcy was capable of running herself ragged on one of them.

Before she left, however, she had a moment of quandry. He would always know where she was, which comforted her greatly when she thought of dangerous situations, but it seemed somehow rude to not leave him a note or something.

She decided to write the note and she gently placed it on his lap. She remembered to take the key before she left their suite and headed for the elevator. Darcy felt like such a responsible adult for remembering.

Then in the elevator, she remembered that she could just apparate back into their rooms, and she felt silly for having felt elated.

Then, walking off the elevator, she realized that she was, at this point, just as likely to accidentally go back to their suite in Dallas, which had also made quite an impression, as their current suite in New Orleans. And so she was glad to have brought her key all over again, and for completely different reasons.

As Darcy climbed onto the machine of choice in the small fitness area, and noted that the pool area was very nice indeed, and she and Loki hadn’t explored it _at all, obviously a travesty to be remedied, like, today_ , her thoughts all seemed to clamor for her attention. Thor, Loki, Jane, Aiden, Mom, to say nothing of her friends back in Culver, Jamie - her roommate and bestie. And shit, she hadn’t been on Facebook in like, a week and a half, and all of her buds were going to think that she’d fallen off the face of the dreaded New Mexico internship and _died_ , even while all of them had actually graduated on time and were now starting bright and nifty new careers as junior lackeys and third assistants in lobbying groups.

And somehow, even with all of the wonderful things that had happened to Darcy in the past two weeks, that made her sad and perhaps just a tiny bit jealous.

She tried to shove the thought away. It was stupid. _She_ was being stupid. She’d graduate a semester late, no big deal, it wasn’t like it was a full fifth year anyway, and there was nothing wrong with taking five years to do a four year program - heck, it happened to people with great grades if they happened to change their major at the wrong time - and everything was fine. Everything was great! She was married to the man of her dreams, she was wealthier than she ever dreamed she’d actually be, she had amazing sex every single night, and often during the day, she was able to have meaningful work in the area of her choice, and for heaven’s sake, she had access to magic. By any objective measure, Darcy Lewis now lived a charmed life, just like Jane said. She ought to be perfectly happy every moment of every day.

As she pushed herself harder on the machine, she realized she wasn’t. She wasn’t happy. Not even slightly. Not right now. God! What was wrong with her?

She worked out harder, increasing her pace, running fast in the weird, joint-saving motion of the elliptical machine, and then turning up the resistance so that it was like trying to sprint through thick mud, uphill. Three minutes of that and she was beaten, and slowed down. She decreased the incline and the resistance and wished she had a water bottle. She hopped off the machine temporarily to the fountain in the corner with cups and guzzled back the water. A dark voice in her head wondered what good having a magic trunk was, after all, if she had to constantly carry around a huge water bottle?

Darcy sighed and tried to push the thought away. She drank another cup before hopping back on the machine.

Slightly exhausted, but still exercising, Darcy was no longer quite as upset with herself. People just weren’t happy all the time. There was no shame in that. You have your ups and you have your downs. And it was like they said about lottery winners. A year after they won the lottery, they were back to baseline - the happy ones were about as happy as before, the depressed ones were about as depressed as before. The money itself might change the state of your debt, and your liquid assets, but it tended not to change your personality. If you were annoying before, you’ll be annoying afterwards.

So, who was she? Who was Darcy Eleanor Lewis of Asgard last month? Underneath all the bullshit and the whining on Facebook and the cramming for exams and writing papers? Who was she? Was there someone underneath all of that? Or was she really as superficial as she sometimes seemed?

Darcy slowly worked out as she considered the answer.

Ever since she was a little girl, she’d wanted to save the world, just like Mom, just like Dad. Just like Aiden. Just like Austin.

Mom saved the world by teaching kindergarteners to read and to love reading, no small feat in the underfunded, overcrowded inner city school she had worked in her whole career.

Dad saved the world by spending half his time running a community law clinic, defending the defenseless.

Austin saved the world by running into burning buildings and then pulling people back out of them in his spare time, and then giving them CPR afterwards.

Aiden was saving the world by healing the sick.

And Darcy wanted to save the world through legislation - ethical, humane, sane, and sensible legislation. That’s what she really had wanted to do. That was the person she really wanted to be. Not a mutant superhero, just an average, everyday good guy who puts her money where her mouth is, kind of thing. Someone who talks the talk and then goes right ahead and walks the walk. Even if it wasn’t totally who she was a month ago, Darcy was quite clear indeed that that was the woman she really wanted to be, no matter what.

And what was she now? The wife of a diplomat. Darcy sighed, but kept going on the machine. Would she ever be taken seriously? Would she be seen as just arm candy? Or worse, an opportunistic gold digger?

Maybe it wasn’t so bad just working behind the scenes, though, even if she wasn’t taken seriously in public. Her favorite teacher always said that you could get a lot done if you didn’t care who took the credit. This was particularly true in political campaigns, where few words that came out of the politician’s mouth originated with the politician himself.

Darcy remembered what Loki had said about her brainstorming with Frigga and Jane, about the combined Embassy and Institute, that it would change the Universe for the better for thousands of years to come. It was a nice thought, but honestly, too big to seem real.

 _Maybe I’ve been dreaming too small?_ a tiny voice seemed to ask, but Darcy didn’t pay it much attention. It was easy to ignore.

Darcy continued on the machine, seeming to settle into a right funk.

 _Ugh! No! This is not how I want to be!_ Determined to, at the very least, focus on the good things in her life she started counting her blessings, just like her mother taught her when she was little. Not that the Lewis family was particularly religious in any sense, but this was something that had always helped when she was feeling sad.

Number one: I found Loki and he’s wonderful.

Number two: Loki loves me.

Number three: I’m going to graduate soon.

Number four: Dad isn’t going to pester me anymore about getting a good job and being able to pay off my student loans without them crushing me.

Number five: I’m going to be Internet Famous in not too long.

Number six: Designing the Embassy and Institute is going to be a lot of fun, and it’s going to be all my fun.

Number seven: I get to have mind-blowing sex with my gorgeous husband pretty much whenever I want.

Number eight: I get to write a really cool paper that Professor Zost is going to help me edit, and maybe it will help Loki to be better accepted.

Number nine: Loki respects me, like, whoa.

Number ten: Loki and Dad and Austin get along really well. Yay for male bonding!

Number eleven: I don’t have to work on my resume. I will never have to work on my resume again.

Number twelve: I don’t have to go job hunting.

Number thirteen: I don’t have to move back in with my parents.

Number fourteen: We don’t have to live with Loki’s parents, either, at least, not for a really long time.

Number fifteen: I probably won’t ever have to be Queen of Asgard. Or Jotunheim. Probably.

Number sixteen: Loki is going to teach me how to drive stick.

Number seventeen: I can eat Thai food just as often as I want.

Number eighteen: I have magic! I should have put that up in the top five.

Number nineteen: Jane seems like a cool person to be related to until the end of time. Being her mother-in-law could be all kinds of weird for the first hundred years or so, but I’m sure I’ll get over it.

Number twenty: Thor is going to grow up soon, or at least eventually, and it will be kinda nice to meet him all over again for the first time when that happens.

Twenty was a nice round number and more importantly, Darcy was starting to feel pretty good again. She glanced at the clock in the fitness room, surprised to see that so little time had passed. She hopped off the machine and wiped it down before getting more water. Glancing around the room, Darcy decided that a little bit of work with the free weights might be a good idea, since she eventually wanted to be able to do Asgardian Kung-Fu, and she was pretty sure that there wasn’t a spell for that. Having more muscle tone couldn’t hurt. Then some stretching and a quick shower, if Loki wasn’t up and around by then.

Darcy was content with her plan and had time to execute the entire thing. When she was finished, Loki was still meditating, so she spread out her note-taking materials on her bed, along with the digital copies of the professor’s recommended reading list and got to work. Not for the first time she was grateful for her father teaching her how to speed read in high school. He always had claimed it was the only way he survived law school.

Darcy made her way through the first three articles in their entirety and was halfway through the fourth with pages of notes to accompany her thoughts when Loki was finally finished. It was at that point that Darcy realized that in the craziness that ensued, she hadn’t mentioned her desire for kitten ownership yet.

* * *

“What are you up to, love?” Loki asked, his tone playful and light, almost like the past day hadn’t even happened. Darcy couldn’t help but wonder if Asgardian meditation was really some form of spiritual lithium or something. And then she had a brief and fleeting thought that such an extreme level of attitude adjustment might only be possible for the Aesir to manage. Then she remembered that her husband was actually Jotunn and mentally moved on.

“Researching for a paper I’m going to write. It’s a hypothetical case for a political journal. You know, in the extremely unlikely event that an alien diplomat were to be dispatched to our little blue-green planet, how should the countries of the Earth react?”

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“I told my favorite professor that I was bored in my non sequitur internship and that I had come up with this ‘thought-piece’ to keep my brain occupied. Really, I just wanted to get her advice without letting the cat out of the bag. _But_ …” And here, Darcy paused. Honestly, she didn’t intend for her ideas to end up involving so much work. “She thought it was a good idea, and interestingly, one whose time had come, and she thinks it should be published. So, she helped me out with some issues to consider, and some resources to check. The ones I ordered online should be back at the ranch by the time we return. She’s going to help me polish it up when I’m done and submit it to some journals.”

Loki leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, a huge grin taking over his face. “Oh, my darling! You are wonderful. Well. In that case, I believe we should hold off on revealing my presence until your paper is published, don’t you think? That would be so much more delicious.”

A little frisson went up Darcy’s spine. Still, as nice as the thought was, she felt a little bad. “But that could be a while. I mean, even if I were to finish it the week we came back, which would mean significantly less Darcy-has-orgies-with-several-Lokis on our happy-funtimes schedule, and even if it is accepted to the first journal, it could still be months before it’s published. And that’s an optimistic view. It could be much longer than that. And it might not be published at all.”

Loki shrugged. “Be honest with yourself, Darcy. Do you think that your paper could have a positive impact on my reception? On our reception?”

Darcy sat up and twiddled a pen between her fingers. “Yes. Maybe. Well, here’s the thing, though. If it’s published, and this is a big ‘if’ I’d like to point out, then it could help to structure the conversation along the lines we’d prefer. Which is huge. I mean, that’s everything right there. So, yes. But, and I do mean _but_ , the moment you come out and it’s clear that Darcy Lewis is Darcy of Asgard, whoever is against you is going to cry foul and they’re going to do it really loudly. The question then becomes… Well, I mean, will there be enough impact from the first to make the second pale in comparison?”

The grin that had been growing since she began answering his question had no small amount of mischief in it.

“Oh, _darling_! You don’t account for the man you’ve married.” Quickly he adopted a bit of a pout. “You wouldn’t, I suppose, think it beneath me to meddle with those who wish us ill? Those who would cry foul for you simply making what I am absolutely certain will be entirely sensible and ethical arguments for the peace of all humankind?”

Darcy blinked. Loki’s innocent pout was officially a work of genius.

“Well…” she trailed off, trying not to be swayed in her thinking by her incredibly persuasive husband whom she’d just discovered could pout like nobody’s business. “Haters gonna hate, but baby, if you want to mess with their heads a little, I have to say, I just want a good seat and some popcorn. And if that makes me a bad person, well, I can deal with that, I think.” Her decision had nothing at all do with the waves of honest innocence that were flowing off of Loki like, well, magic.

The delicious and mischievous grin was back. “Fantastic. Then don’t fret over them, darling. And when the time comes, you shall have your seat and your popcorn, both. Speaking of which, I continued my meddling with SHIELD this Saturday past and I believe I am now more prominently in the thoughts of their director, Nicholas Fury. Things are continuing nicely in that vein, and they have decided to cease all observation of us, though they are tracking our automobile. I understand that they have been and will continue to observe Jane’s mother’s home in London, and indeed, dear Jane has been paying closer attention to me than I thought at first. We shall have to be more mindful of where and when we are conversing, my love, when we wish to know more of each other. She has told most to her mother, and so SHIELD knows much I hadn’t intended, but no, fear not,” he said, probably noting her stricken expression. “Tis fine, truly. SHIELD knows now that I play a deeper game than they suspected, which is in my favor. And I know exactly how much they know, how much they guess, and what they haven’t even thought to question, which is also in my favor.” Suddenly Loki adopted a look of bemusement. “Did you know that they _write everything down?_ Everything! A written account has been made of us. They imagine themselves secure, but then they chronicle everything for others to discover later. And I have. Honestly, love, I find their entire mental processes utterly bewildering, but I suppose I can address that in due course. But to my point, Director Fury will be approaching us - well, he believes he will be approaching me, but truly, I would have you with me in all of these things - when we return from our honeymoon. He is to invite me as consultant to his pet project, a band of superheroes.”

Darcy blinked. Three weeks. It took him three weeks to get everything he wanted. “Nice,” she said.

Loki smiled at her. “But you know, I don’t believe I’ll make it easy for him. He likes to have all of the secrets, all of the power, and I do understand that urge.” Loki shrugged. “But we do not always get exactly what we want.”

 _Unless your name is Loki,_ Darcy thought, wryly.

He laughed, throwing his head back and looking just glorious. “Oh my love!” he exclaimed when all that was left were amused chuckles. Now he was leaning back, his hands behind him on the carpet, his chest stretched out and on display as he sat there in just the leather pants. Darcy couldn’t help but notice that she’d been promised sex some time ago and it hadn’t happened yet. “I adore that you believe it to be true,” he said in response to her thought. “Alas, I quite often do not get what I want.”

 _Not on Midgard. We seem to just be throwing your desires at your feet_. Darcy’s left eyebrow rose of its own will and volition, and she briefly forgot about sex in the face of being right.

Loki smiled ruefully. “Darling, while I have indeed achieved many wonderful things I hadn’t ever thought I could have, I must point out that I really didn’t want Thor joining us at any point, and you can be utterly certain that I absolutely did not wish it to occur whilst we were on our honeymoon. Also there is the issue of my parentage which has come to light during my time here on your beautiful realm. I honestly did not want to know. It only complicates things.”

Oh. Right. That.

“Wanna talk about that?” Darcy asked gently.

“I have come to a place of peace concerning the whole of it, my dear. Or, at least as much of it as I can at present. And I do apologize for the extremity of my emotions of earlier. There is much concerning my brother that I had not put in order and truly it will take more time than this day affords to do so. Having said that, I will do what I can to help him on his way, if only because I no longer wish to step into our father’s shoes. He must. And the sooner is he genuinely prepared to do so, the better for all involved, I think. I, myself, find I have much more compelling ways to order my days than to be saddled with the ruling of the Realm Eternal.

“And as for, as you say, my other father, that is something I must discuss at length with Odin, when he wakes. I have no desire to seek out Laufey, King of the Jotunn, as I have no desire at all to _be_ Jotunn, though it does explain so much about me that had been a source of confusion. I know I shall have to face it all, and the sooner the better. But not, perhaps, today.”

“You gotta teach me how to meditate. Seriously,” Darcy said, shaking her head. It took him an hour to put that all into perspective. An _hour_. It would have taken Darcy half a year, with therapy twice a week.

Loki smiled again. All the smiles. So many smiles. “I shall, my dove. I shall teach you anything and everything you wish.”

The kitten could wait, Darcy decided, as she crawled off the bed and onto Loki’s lap.


	7. Wherein gates are broken.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane forgets that there is no signal in her magic trunk and Darcy and Loki argue over the naming of a kitten. Personal growth ensues.

_“Just checking in to see if anyone has died, yet. Don’t think L’d hold it against you, btw.”_ Darcy sent the text to Jane late that evening after seducing her husband and securing a kitten from the same litter as Pratchett. In fact, they were still undecided about the name of the cat, so it was just as well they weren’t taking it home yet.

“It’s a Midgardian cat, it should have a Midgardian name, Loki.”

He only narrowed his eyes at her for a long while. “Our children may very well be born on Midgard, making them as much Midgardian as any other realm they could claim. Will you use this argument then?”

Darcy rolled her eyes and sighed. “I see what you’re doing, Mischief. I am so not going to give up any right I have to take part in the naming of our children - especially in giving them reasonable names - just because you disagree with my suggestion that we name our kitten ‘Dr. Who’.”

Loki gave her a hard look, then closed his eyes on a sigh. Darcy watched, unamused, as he took several deep breaths and sat down on the floor, right where he’d stood. His eyes were still shut. Her jaw gaped as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared down at him.

_Of all the nerve! Now he was what? Taking the moral high ground or something? Were they or were they not in the middle of a friggin’ conversation? What the hell!_

And then she realized that she was upset. Mostly because her arms were crossed over her chest. She uncrossed them, then felt very strange. As if she ought to be crossing her arms.

Darcy nearly growled in frustration, pacing across the sitting room of their suite once, and then twice before she flopped herself down on a club chair. She screwed her eyes shut and put her fingers into what she thought might be a meditation-type position. At least, it was one she saw on the cover of a book somewhere. She wanted to learn to meditate, right? No time like the present!

She sat, fuming, for five minutes, getting clearer and clearer on exactly what was wrong with Loki and exactly what he needed to do to change in order to be less annoying and insane. When he occasionally got that way. Like, right now.

“Darling, what are you doing?” came his annoyingly gentle voice.

“Meditating,” she spat out.

“Successfully?”

She refused to open her eyes. “You can be helpful, or you can _shut the hell up._ ”

He said nothing. Until he did. Darcy had no idea how many minutes, or perhaps hours, had passed since he had asked a useless, smart-assed question and totally ruined her almost good meditation session. Probably several. Meditation was agony.

“Concentrate on your breath,” he said quietly. “Feel its gentle flow. Feel how effortlessly your lungs inflate. Feel how easily you release the breath. Don’t make an effort to breathe deeper. Don’t make an effort to breathe more shallowly. Just watch your breath with your mind’s eye. Watch it flow in and out. In and out. In and out.”

His voice was slow and calm and Darcy could feel herself starting to relax, maybe just from that alone.

“Are you doing magic on me?” she asked, hanging on to her annoyance.

“None at all, Darcy. I’m simply encouraging you to focus on your breath. In and out. In and out. In and out. And when you inhale, feel the tension in your body. When you exhale, release a little of that tension. Each time you exhale, release a little more of that tension. Why don’t you begin in your head? When you inhale, feel the tension in your face. As you exhale, release a bit of that tension.”

She could hear him shift toward her.

“May I touch you, Darcy?”

She nodded, trying not to stay mad. She did actually want to calm down. Sort of.

He took her hands and tugged a little.

“Will you come down here with me?”

She nodded again, but didn’t feel like opening her eyes. Because if she did, she wouldn’t be meditating anymore. If she opened her eyes, she’d have to face the fact that he was being really nice and she was still pissed at him. If Darcy opened her eyes, she’d have to face the fact that she felt guilty about arguing with him. So she didn’t open her eyes. But she did come down to the floor with him, and let him lay her down, with a pillow under her head and another under her knees. Probably from the sofa. They were the only pillows in the room.

“Focus once more on your breath, Darcy. In and out. Easily in, easily out.”

She felt his fingertips trace around her eyes.

“As you inhale, tighten the muscles around your eyes, Darcy. That’s right. Now release as you exhale. Good. And again. And once more.”

She felt his fingertips trace around her mouth.

“As you inhale, tighten the muscles around your mouth, Darcy. Good. Now release as you exhale. And again. And once more.”

His fingertips traced down her neck, across her shoulders, down both arms, down the backs of her hands, across her ribcage, down her abdomen, along her sides, along the edge of her butt, down her thighs, down her calves, over the tops of her feet. His voice chased her relaxation closer and closer to her until she was nearly asleep she was so calm.

“Now, Darcy, do you feel tension anywhere in your body? Don’t answer immediately. Take a moment to breathe. Ask your breath. As you inhale, ask your breath to gather at the site of tension. As you exhale, release some of that tension. Inhale into the tension. Exhale and release it. Inhale into what remains. Exhale to release it. Good. Again, Darcy. Inhale into the tension. Exhale to release it.”

And then there were tears. Kind of from the middle of nowhere and with no warning whatsoever, Darcy was crying. No, she was sobbing. Ugly, heaving, face-contorting sobs that were _loud_. The only good part about them was that they were so all-consuming that there was nothing left of Darcy to feel embarrassed about the situation.

As she lay on the floor, sobbing, eyes still closed, a piece of cloth was stuffed in her hand and she could feel the heaviness of Loki’s palm on her stomach.

“Let it out, Darcy. You are safe, here. No matter what, you are safe, here.”

“I don’t… even… know why… I’m… crying!” she managed to get out, eventually.

“You don’t have to know, right now. It doesn’t need to make sense. This was trapped inside of you, this pain. Now you are letting it go.”

“I… hate… this!” she cried, in between her gasping sobs.

“You aren’t meant to love it. You’re meant to let it go. And you’re doing just that. You’re doing beautifully, Darcy. You’re almost done.”

“How… do you… know… that?” she wailed.

“Because I do. Stop resisting. Just give yourself over to the tears, Darcy. I’m right here. I’ll never leave you. Let it out. Let it go, Darcy.”

There were more tears. More sobbing. More gut-wrenching wails that no one outside of their suite could hear.

And then she was done.

Like a switch flipped, Darcy stopped. Two staggered breaths in and then instead of a sob it was a sigh. There were no more tears left and she felt empty inside. But also, somehow, clean.

“What the hell was that?” Darcy’s whisper was hoarse and her throat was raw. She swallowed harshly and wished for water, but grabbed for Loki’s hand as it left her stomach. “Stay,” she said. Belatedly she realized she sounded whiney, but couldn’t bring herself to care much.

“Different cultures have different names for it,” he said in response to her question.

“Stop equivocating,” she demanded tiredly.

“In the tradition of Aesir sorcery, it is the breaking of the first gate. It must occur for the young apprentice to finish their training. The first gate is about learning to love yourself and forgive your past. Each of the nine gates progress from the one before. Apprentices must actually master the first two or no sane master will graduate them.

“No matter the culture or realm, however, such releases always come down to fear. The Aesir, as do many others, believe that Fear is always at the basis of our anger, our rage, our pain, our suffering, our cruelty. Not a little fear, a fear of this or of that, Fear itself. The capacity, the willingness, the ability to Fear. Breaking down the capacity to Fear is the deeper purpose of sorcerous training. The opportunity to hone a magical ability is a byproduct of the mental training involved. Though to be fair, not many sorcerers care about the gates beyond the magic it can guarantee them.”

Darcy sniffed and cracked open her eyes. God, she was a mess. A hot, messy mess. She blew her nose with Loki’s handkerchief that he’d put into her hand sometime last week when her meltdown on the floor started. “I want to know more about all of this, but right now I need to tell you than I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pick a fight with you. I mean, well, I did mean it at the time. But I don’t actually want to fight with you.”

Loki leaned down to gently kiss her lips and then sat up again, next to her.

“It’s alright darling. When you’re ready, we’ll discuss it. But I’ll say this: you’re the one who wanted the creature, so I do think you should have the right to name it what you wish. And when we have children, we’ll discuss what their names ought to be at that time, with no reference to what we may have called cats, horses, or automobiles in the past.”

Darcy laughed, remembering the moment that Loki declared - clearly under the influence of Austin - that their car ought to be named Svinnr. Which apparently meant ‘zippy’, but with less vowels. She laughed so hard she started coughing, which wasn’t so hard, really, with the state of her throat. She wiped a stray tear away and looked over to her husband who was kneeling beside her, sitting back on his bare feet.

“Would you get me some water?”

“Of course, my love,” he replied. Loki bent over and gently kissed her lips before he gracefully rose and brought her a chilled bottle of water from the small refrigerator.

Darcy sat up and downed half of it in one go and then took a few deep breaths. “Thank you. I mean, not just for the water. Thank you for helping me to calm down. And do some gate crashing. How’d you know, by the way? I mean, I’m not studying magic, and I sure wasn’t trying to face down any fears.”

“There is a simple answer and there is a more complex answer. But before I answer,” he said, kneeling down once more, this time in front of her. He lifted a hand to her throat and gently stroked the column of her neck with three fingers. “May I help you?”

Darcy just looked at him in confusion.

“May I heal your throat for you?”

Darcy’s eyes went wide. For some reason, his question caught her completely off guard. It shouldn’t have, she would later consider. His magic was all around her. But sometimes it surprised her, even so. Silently she nodded her assent.

He stroked her throat with his fingertips. They were so cool to the touch, cooler than normal and it seemed to go deep into her throat, the coolness. It wrapped around the abused, hot, inflamed bits of her throat and she moaned a little at the feeling. A shiver shot up her back just before he took his fingertips away from her skin.

She drank the rest of the bottle of water and Loki silently fetched her another.

“Always drink water after healings. The toxins have to go somewhere, and it is better that they be flushed out of your system entirely,” he instructed softly, his voice so intimate, so close.

Darcy really wanted to show her appreciation. Besides, it was bedtime, wasn’t it? But something nagged at her.

“Didn’t you say that you weren’t a very good healer?” she asked.

Loki nodded. “It’s true. I’m not. But for reasons that are finally becoming obvious to me, I’ve always been good at reducing inflammation and fevers. This,” he said, stroking her throat with one cool fingertip, “was nothing. Your first knife wound, however, will likely have me panicking.”

“Borghild’s a decent healer,” Darcy pointed out, really proud that she remembered her bodyguard sorceress’s name.

“Good. She won’t be the only one, however, or I shan’t ever train you in weapons.”

Darcy smiled.

“So, how did you know? About me and the crying being the gate thing? Give me both versions.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “As you wish. The short version is quite simple. I knew you would eventually have such a moment because you are married to me, and I knew what it looked like because I have done it myself.”

“That,” Darcy paused. Her brows crinkled in disatisfaction. “Sounds creepy, actually,” she finally decided on saying. “And maybe a little like something you should have mentioned around the same time we were talking about being a blue shapeshifter.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t actually think you’d find the short version satisfying. And I wouldn’t think it was quite on the same level as being a blue shapeshifter, to be perfectly honest. The gates have to do with an ethical system marking personal growth. The fact that I’m a blue shapeshifter is really more on the order of a state secret I stumbled upon one day that made me second-guess my entire existence.”

Darcy blinked.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Okay. You have a point,” she conceded after a moment.

Loki nodded.

“Sorry?” she asked timidly.

Loki grinned briefly and leaned over far enough to kiss her nose. “Shall we ready ourselves for bed as I tell you the longer version of why I knew you’d broken the first gate? I don’t wish to spend the next hour on the floor. At least,” he said with a grin, “not in conversation.”

Darcy smirked at him and took his hand as he helped her to rise. She kissed him on the lips, just a peck, just to show she loved him, and headed to the bathroom and her toothbrush.

Darcy could totally brush her teeth in front of him, but she couldn’t bring herself to pee in front of him. Though really, she was totally curious about watching him pee. She’d never actually seen a penis used like that, was the thing. But since she wasn’t ready for him to even be in the same room with her with the situation was reversed, she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“Tell me the long version,” she prompted.

“The first part is a story of like to like. The second is, well,” and here Loki paused in his speech and his pace. When Darcy stopped and looked back, she saw her husband with a faraway look on his face and wondered if he’d just heard something bad, like terrorists halfway around the world talking about their imminent strike on five star hotels in New Orleans or something. He breathed out a word that was not English but that Darcy was pretty sure ranked up there with ‘Goddamn motherfucker’, if the stricken look on his face was anything to go by.

Darcy was torn. She didn’t want to interrupt him if he was concentrating and needed to continue, but she did want to know what the hell was going on and she strongly preferred to know right the hell now. She walked back toward him and slowly reached out to touch his shoulder, hoping not to startle him.

“I see something I had not seen before,” Loki whispered, still looking into the middle distance, and Darcy still didn’t know if he was talking about terrorists, their previous conversation, or any number of other, unknown topics. “I feel like a young fool.”

There was something heartbreaking in his tone.

“Are we in immediate danger?” Darcy asked, quiet but urgent.

Loki merely shook his head.

“Do you need to leave immediately to go do something?”

He shook his head again.

“Can we sit down and talk about this?” she asked more gently.

Loki nodded and she took him by the hand and led him to the sofa. When he just stood in front of it, eyes still vacant, brain God knows where, she hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Sit. I’ll be right back.”

She fetched two more bottles of water, a blanket, and then thought again. She called room service and ordered a large pot of black tea and some sandwiches. Then Darcy made her way back with the blanket and the water. When she wrapped the blanket around Loki’s shoulders he was still unresponsive, his eyes looking out into a situation she couldn’t see. She uncapped a bottle and wrapped his fingers around it.

“Drink,” she said softly, figuring that if she was being too pushy, he’d just ignore her, but that otherwise, maybe she was being just pushy enough.

He did drink. He spoke quietly, matching her soft tone, though he still didn’t meet her eyes. “This is not an emergency as such, I just need,” he paused then, as if he wasn’t certain what he needed. “I need another moment to sort things out.”

Darcy nodded, then wondered at herself. It wasn’t like he was looking.

“Okay,” she said, after a moment. She thought about mentioning the tea, then decided to just leave him to the quiet he needed. It wasn’t an emergency, though it obviously wasn’t good.

Darcy sat and then found that she couldn’t sit, so she did some yoga instead. She forewent the mat because it never worked as well as she thought it would on carpet, so she didn’t try to do anything too tricky. Just something that would require a bit of concentration. By the time room service was knocking at the door she was down in half pigeon and it took a moment to get up again.

She had the guy deliver the tray to the table in front of the sofa and duly signed the receipt and added a tip. It would all be billed to the room, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have to sign each time something was delivered.

Sitting back down and looking at the large plate of half sandwiches which would have fed a whole crew of her old college friends when it came to midnight munchies, she wondered if it would be enough, if Loki happened to actually be hungry. Then again, perhaps he didn’t eat when he was stressed.

Darcy went back to doing some more yoga until she heard his chagrined voice.

“Oh, love. You are too good to me.”

She looked over at him from triangle pose. She was quite proud of herself that she didn’t fall over, either. On an exhale she righted her torso.

“You wanna talk, or do you need some more time?”

Really, in some ways that she would never have believed possible, being Jane’s assistant had prepared her for dealing with Loki when he was stressed.

“I am well, darling, and I am prepared to speak, though I do feel quite the fool. But you shall judge that for yourself. Will you come to me? I’d rather not _begin_ with distance between us.”

Well, that sounded ominous, but Darcy’s radar wasn’t exactly twigged anymore, and she had started to get some of the adrenaline out of her system with the yoga. Not that she was quite done with that process, of course. But, whatever. Still, as soon as he stopped speaking she stretched one last time and joined him on the couch. She sat facing him, one leg tucked underneath her.

“So…” she prompted.

He sighed and held his hand out, palm up. She slipped hers into it and noticed that he felt colder than normal.

“So,” he began. “We were discussing why I knew that you had broken through the first gate. There are truly two different sets of reasons as to how I know it and the simplest one was the first I mentioned: like calls to like. Every Aesir with a sorceress in the family knows of it and truly I hadn’t thought to mention it before. I shall explain it in greater depth in but a moment, but it is the second set of reasons that I,” he cut himself off. “Well. I began to say one thing, but then I realized that the truth was much more involved than I realized, and included, well, I’ll get to that. It was a bit like fording a well-known river at a safe place only to discover as you’re swept downstream in an uncontrollable torrent that it was neither so well-known nor so safe as you’d thought.”

Darcy started breathing more deeply when she realized that it truly wasn’t an emergency. There were no terrorists. This was really all about their conversation, which had apparently taken some hairpin turns in Loki’s mind. Her own fears put well and truly to rest, she poured them both some tea and put a half sandwich on her plate and three on one for him. She saw his smile thanking her and sat back, munching on her sandwich and telling her hindbrain to go back to sleep.

When he seemed unsure of what to say next, Darcy piped up.

“Why don’t you start with the hardest part, and work backwards? I promise not to freak out.” Been there, done that, got the adrenaline rush.

Loki sighed again, and nodded contemplatively.

“I have lied to you, though I did not mean to do so.”

“Kay,” Darcy said around her mouthful of sandwich. She put her food down and finished her mouthful, just in case this wasn’t just Loki losing his shit over issues of honesty. Again.

“Many days ago when we discussed the purpose and goals of our lives, and of Jane’s, I neglected to even consider the thing that was so very essential and so very secret to me that it conducted the entire course of my life, even now. Even now.”

Something clicked inside Darcy’s noggin. “The prophecy?” she asked, remembering his story during the Wedding Feast of Awesome.

He nodded. “I have spent my entire life since that moment striving to become the best possible man that I could because I knew that I could not escape my fate. Even if an untimely death were to take me, my fate would only be reserved for my next life which would in some respects pick up where I’d left off.”

Darcy blinked slowly as she realized that her husband took reincarnation as a given.

Loki seemed not to notice and only continued after a sip of tea.

“And that is but the half of it. Though I am not ready to divulge all of the details of the prophecy, or indeed, many at all, I will say that it has fueled my study of sorcery in general and illusions specifically. All of this in order to be ready when the time comes.”

“To be ready to do what?” Darcy asked, finally beginning to realize that the prophecy wasn’t just some childhood trauma from a thousand years ago. It was the ongoing fire that fueled her husband.

“To meet my fate, Darcy.” After a quiet and long moment, he added, “Our fate.”

Darcy stared at him. She wouldn’t realize for some time that her plate with the half-eaten sandwich slipped off her thigh and landed on the couch at an angle.

“It came to me, all in a rush. A new interpretation of the prophecy. But also how our lives, inextricably woven together will affect… things,” he said, vaguely. Loki got a far off look in his eye again and set his teacup down. All of the sudden he laughed and it startled Darcy.

And he laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed.

It didn’t _seem_ like he’d just lost his mind. But how could she be sure?

Loki’s laugh was the laugh of a man relieved, not hysterical. That was one count in sanity’s favor.

Darcy watched as he rubbed his hands over his face, still laughing, and then through his hair. He flopped back into the pillows, still laughing, half reclining, the blanket half on and half off his shoulders. She took a deep breath and remembered that she loved him through thick and thin, through comprehension and incomprehension, and that she absolutely would understand what in hell was going on by the time they were done.

Then she noticed that her sandwich had gone AWOL. She rescued it and put it on the table with Loki’s laughter-abandoned tea.

He was still laughing when she leaned back, and was unprepared for him to pounce on her. One moment he was on the other side of the couch, half lying back, laughing with his face to the ceiling and the next moment he was laughing, his face full of the most infectious joy, hovering over her.

Darcy was a bit surprised, but at this point, only a bit. Now, if he started to do some naked belly dancing while explaining the nature of the Universe, that would really shock her. But really, Loki just had her pinned to a piece of furniture, which was actually quite familiar at this point.

He kissed her all over her face.

“So. Happy now?” she asked, questioning the obvious, true, but also hoping to spark an explanation.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “It’s you! By the Nine! Everything falls into place! Everything makes sense! _Woman! **I adore you!** ”_ He somehow continued to kiss her face, laugh, and proclaim his love. Really, he was doing two out of the three in any given moment.

“Love you too, hun,” Darcy said, not quite in a place of laughter herself, but not far from it. He was just so _infectious_. His laugh seemed to hit somewhere deep inside of her and beg her sense of humor to come out and play, even if it didn’t understand the joke.

“My darling, wonderful wife! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Chaos. What did I do?”

He paused directly over her face. He was so full of joy it was just _radiating_ out of him. Darcy grinned and wondered how she could have ever thought that this was hysteria. She found herself giggling right along with him.

“You!”

After a moment's hesitation, Darcy decided just to ride the chaos around her and worry about understanding it when convenient. “Me!” she shouted back, happily.

“The ninth gate!”

“Is a long way away from where I am?” she asked, laughing hard now.

“I’ve just broken it! And it’s all your doing!”

Darcy laughed. “Well!” she exclaimed. “You’re welcome!”

Loki laughed, throwing his head back and Darcy was mesmerized with the column of his neck. _Damn he was beautiful._

He looked back at her, mirth overflowing his eyes, even as his laughter was momentarily tamed. “Let me make love to you, Darcy.”

Darcy was still laughing. She raised an eyebrow with her response. “Rock on, Rockstar.”

He laughed again. “Is that yes? Sometimes I can’t tell.”

This also seemed very funny to Darcy, but at this point most everything did. “Yes.”

“Excellent!” And then he kissed her and Darcy discovered that you could, actually kiss someone and still kind of be laughing at the same time. It wasn’t the neatest kiss the the world, or the most elegant. But it was probably the most amusing one.

She wasn’t surprised when their clothes disappeared, not really, but it still set her off on another peal of laughter.

“We’re going to have to stop laughing,” she managed to say without snorting and embarrassing herself. Sometimes, when Darcy laughed and tried to speak at the same time, she snorted, too.

“Why?” Loki asked, his eyes ablaze with his amusement as he slinked down her and ended up half off the couch as he draped her legs over his shoulders.

She gasped, then laughed, then gasped again as he ran his fingertips up the side of her thigh. “Because- because you can’t have sex and laugh at the same time!” But then she was laughing again, and then sighing as his fingers stroked closer and closer to where she actually wanted them.

Loki chuckled lowly, nuzzling into her thigh before spreading her open with his fingers. “I shan’t believe it until we’ve failed at least a dozen times.” And then we was there, with his tongue inside of her.

He was still sort of laughing.

* * *

Loki discovered that Darcy could laugh and receive pleasure in very close proximity, but not quite at the same time. Still he was undaunted.

Jotunn were not, so far as Loki’s nighttime reading had uncovered, prone to prolonged bouts of jocularity and of their mating rituals and habits the Aesir knowledge base was summed up in one not-thoroughly-illuminating word: virile. No mention of the two - laughter and sex - were to be had, not thus far at least.

Clearly, thought he, original research must be done on the subject. The sex was certainly plentiful, if he and Darcy remained uninterrupted. And if anything could keep him in reliably high spirits, breaking through the ninth and innermost gate would certainly be that thing. Mastering said gate would be even better, but why put off until the next century what one could do this very evening?

Loki’s desire was high and hard, but he wanted to test his theories using just one body at present. He would add more variables at a later stage, perhaps.

He was not perfectly successful in maintaining his laughter while pleasuring Darcy thus far. He had no wish to strain and be in anyway unnatural, neither in his laughter, nor in his instinctive desire to lavish attention and love on his wife. But he was curious, since she’d brought up her belief that one simply could not laugh and have sex at the same time.

Loki did discover that it was possible to be completely joyful while having sex, without one shred of hesitation, judgement, angst, or suffering even in the least measure. However, he reasoned that others had gone before him in this feat. Still, he had accomplished it for the very first time himself, just now, and he frankly hoped it would be the first in a long line of such occurrences spanning the rest of his life.

He crawled up the sofa that Darcy was still sprawled across, licking and kissing the skin he passed by, knowing that his actions sent shivers through her.

“You never explained the gate thing,” she observed distractedly. She was still smiling, though no longer laughing.

Loki got his feet under him and swung her up into his arms. He was about to answer her when she evidently saw their abandoned late-evening meal and exclaimed her dismay. He glanced back and traced the extent of the stasis charm with his eyes. He cast it, setting it to break in twelve hours, or when it was first touched.

“Taken care of, Love. It will be fine if we want it later,” he said, the chuckle not far from his voice.

It was the oddest and loveliest thing, the laughter. He didn’t feel overtaken by it, not after the initial introduction. It was more like sitting in a hot spring in the middle of a wintery day in the mountains. It was all around him, delightfully refreshing, and if he wished, he could sink down deeper into it. Or he could come out of it for a moment to roll in the snow and get some perspective - before returning to it. But it was always there, the joy, the laughter. That was what the ninth gate meant, at least, in part. As for the rest, who would believe it? No wonder masters of the ninth gate spoke only in riddles. How was he even to attempt to describe it to Darcy without sounding a fool?

‘ _See everything, see nothing at all,_ ’ he quoted to himself, finally understanding the ninth riddle. Finally understanding _everything_.

The laughter bubbled up inside as insight flashed through his mind. And he knew with a certainty that he would be able to explain it to Darcy in the perfect time. Which wasn’t now. No, he would not need to explain the depth of it to her immediately. They had time. Truly, there was much _to_ explain, and he knew that Darcy wished to understand everything immediately, if not sooner. Her impatience was a sign of her determination and commitment, and he loved her for it.

Loki strode into the bedroom with Darcy in his arms and gently placed her on the bed he had neatly made after they had be interrupted by Jane just following luncheon. He took a moment to remove her study materials and place them on a small nearby table. When he returned to her, she was half sitting up, leaning back on her elbows and wiggling her feet.

“Ninth gate. Spill,” she said. When he began crawling up the bed from the bottom, she opened her legs in welcome.

Loki gave her the simplest explanation he could. “Tis the final and inner gate marking a sorcerer with compassion and integrity. Breaking it is the first step. Mastering it is the last.”

“I thought you were already a Master Sorcerer?” she asked as he lifted first one thigh, and then another, positioning himself at her entrance.

“That has to do with harnessing the raw power of magic, Love,” he said, thrusting into her completely and all at once. He had first hand and intimate knowledge of just how wet she was and knew it would bring her pleasure, rather than pain.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and cried out ecstatically.

“This… measures… something else… entirely,” he said, his words punctuating his thrusts, his mind beginning to lose the thread of the conversation. A small part of his mind noted that he wasn’t laughing anymore, but no part of his mind cared in the least.

“I want… to know… _everything_!” she managed to say before once more losing the capacity to form words beyond ‘ _Yes_!’ ‘ _Loki_!’ and ‘ _O God_!’.

“You will,” he groaned, thrusting with all his might, rutting in her and reaching for quick and easy gratification this time. Darcy would probably not be able to come again so quickly with so little attention to her needs, but his orgasm would not mark their finish, not by any means. “I promise.”

She was his equal. In ways he dared not dream to be true. In a way it didn’t make sense. But it was, nonetheless. That was what he realized before he broke through the gate. She was his equal and she had much to teach him, which in his hubris he had not thought possible. The thought of it, even now, sent a thrill through him. _She was his equal._

He was close now, so close, and the sight of her laid out below him matched the euphoria he felt, knowing that he could trust Darcy with _everything_.

Her name was his chant as his pleasure overtook him, as strong and overpowering as it ever had. He felt her warm hands stroking his back, soothing him as the last, shocking moments of it wracked his frame and poured deep into her.

Loki pulled back, the depth of the momentary exhaustion hitting him. But still, he wanted to look into her eyes. Even now, especially now, he wanted her to know that he loved her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I'm totally still having fun with this. How 'bout you?


	8. Wherein secrets are revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is thinking, Loki is explaining, Darcy is absorbing, Jane is angsting, Selvig is defusing, Thor is listening, and Pratchett is off screen, but both adorable and infuriating, as is his right as a kitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all those who celebrate it, Merry Christmas! I hope the fourth day of Christmas is treating you well. Instead of four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree, please accept my offering of four minutes of Nick Fury thinking, three anxious moments in the gas station, two Darcy brain blips, and Loki in a hot tub. I hope you enjoy them just as much as the rest of your gifts, with the certain knowledge that they require less maintenance than ten birds and a semi-large tree.

Nick Fury stood in his rarely used New York City apartment in the dimming light, hands clasped behind his back. He was thinking. He had been standing there, thinking, for some time.

He didn’t believe in coincidences. But he did believe in a higher power; in the chaos of his world it had always been very clear to him that someone - or perhaps many someones - were fucking with him without his consent. He was not paranoid. And he was not wrong. He was a man, you must understand, who could see deeply into a situation. It wasn’t a mutant power, just a natural ability to which few give credence. Nick Fury had, for lack of a more dramatic turn of phrase,  _ insight.  _

He often knew when people were lying to him. He frequently knew when they were lying to themselves. When he began to trust his instincts, people began to say that he was a good judge of character. That was helpful. That he also did whatever job he was given far and away better than anyone else was also helpful. When you were a large, black, and often angry man working in the federal government you needed every advantage you could get.

And Nick Fury could not help being large, or black, or angry, or a man. Three of the four were a matter of genetics and the remaining was a matter of attention. How anyone could be alive in the world, knowledgeable of what went on, and not  _ angry  _ was utterly beyond him.

And that is why Nick Fury sought out the most power he could. So he could do the most good. And since troublemaking assholes could also be sneaky motherfuckers, he had long ago decided to beat them at their own game. Let other people lead demonstrations. Let other people lead movements. Let other people lead congregations. It was all necessary. And someone had to do this, too.

And so he stood in his rarely used apartment that was sometimes the best place for thinking when other places would not do.

An abomination had been unleashed, but they’d made a deal and air-dropped Banner.

Stark was making a nuisance of himself all over the world, but that wasn’t actually anything new.

Rogers had incredible potential, but he was too idealistic by far.

SHIELD Scientific continuously churned out the best of the best - but none of them rivaled the shining examples of contrary genius that seemed to crop up everywhere else. It would have to be addressed, and soon.

The new Ambassador of Asgard seemed like a self-absorbed and entitled individual, and Fury idly wondered if he would hate him on sight.

Xavier’s Institute continued to be a source of annoyance.

Phase I of the Tesseract project was stalled. Phase II might need to begin earlier than anticipated.

084’s were on the increase. A new division would need to be created, perhaps.

International cooperation was at an all-time high, excepting North Korea, of course.

And apparently, his secret organization had a secret organization of it’s own.

Hence thinking in a darkened apartment.

The list Hill had compiled for him of everything that had occurred in the world of any note at all last Saturday and the Saturday before that were formidable lists eight pages long, each.

Twenty-five. Not twenty-four. Not twenty-six. Twenty-five of his agents. Last Saturday. The Saturday before that. Nick Fury had every expectation that this Saturday another twenty-five of his agents would have reports filed on them such that an internal review would be warrented immediately. 

Twenty-five was as many new investigations as could be launched at one time.

Twenty-five in one week was as many new investigations as could be resolved in such time.

And he’d just doubled the capacity of SHIELD IR, because clearly Nick Fury had a benefactor and clearly his benefactor was paying very close attention, and Nick Fury was curious about that. He also wanted this thing done. He had little doubt that the leaders of the mole organization were running scared right now. He would just as soon catch them as let them go underground, elsewhere.

Which is why Hill had other orders, too.

Because there was no such thing as coincidence, and fortune favored the bold. And the prepared.

And so Nick Fury continued to think.

* * *

Loki laughed.

Darcy looked up at him from her seat snuggled next to him in the hotel hot tub. He had his arms flung out along the edge and Darcy had had to nip out twice to turn the temperature of the tub up again. Her icecube of a husband was having a predictable effect on the water, and the hotter it got, the colder he got.

They had the room to themselves, but they were being good. Her bikini was staying firmly in place, thank you, and Loki’s speedos hadn’t moved. She’d chosen this location because she wanted to talk with him and to know that they wouldn’t be distracted by sex. She was absolutely determined to understand his religion - gates, reincarnation, the whole nine yards - because it would inevitably become her religion in a few hundred years. At least, she figured, she’d need to be able to pay an intelligent amount of lip service to it.

But of course it wasn’t that easy. And Darcy was confused by his laughter, but only momentarily. Because if the present conversation wasn’t particularly humorous, then another one probably was.

“What’s shakin’, Mischief?” she asked once his laughter had subsided into the most adorable giggles to come out of a grown man. Others might have called it ‘chuckling’, but Darcy was pretty sure that Loki could giggle and still hold onto his testosterone card with all five stars punched out.

Quietly, he gave her a status update on one of his favorites, and she rolled her eyes. Clearly, Loki would never be bored. 

Darcy patted his knee under the water. “I’m glad you’re having fun, dear,” and the moment it was out of her mouth realized that she sounded just like her mother. She was horrified, and Loki went off into further peals of laughter.

“That is not funny,” she said, frowning. Well, it was maybe a little bit. But Darcy didn’t  _ want  _ to sound like her mother! She was too young! Too interesting! 

Loki kissed her nose and hmm’d. “We are all a little like those who raised us. Sometimes in pleasant ways. Sometimes not. There is no shame in it.”

Darcy decided to go with the subject change. They’d get back to religion in a minute.

“How are you like Odin?” she asked. She could already see several ways in which Frigga’s influence was shot through his life.

Loki smiled ruefully and sighed. “I hope I have his strength. I should like to think I do. And as for detriments, I shall leave that to you to discover and not prejudice you with my own opinion on the matter.”

“Cop out,” she said, her voice rising slightly.

Loki quirked an eyebrow, his face telling of his confusion.

Darcy rolled her eyes. Then she smiled, despite herself. 

“Okay,” she conceded. “Can we return to our earlier subject? Your not-religion religion?” He had protested that it wasn’t, but his philosophical framework seemed to serve the same function.

Loki grinned at her. “Of course, darling. Why don’t you summarize, I’ll offer correction, and then we’ll continue on?”

Darcy nodded and looked across the beautiful room they were sitting in. It was glassed in on two sides and filled with palms and ferns and a few small citrus trees. The architecture was… well, she didn’t know the names of the forms involved, but it seemed quintessential French Quarter, which made sense, as that’s where they were. It gave Darcy ideas for the Embassy, really. But her mind wasn’t on the tranquility of the beautiful natatorium.

“So. If I understand what you’ve said so far, the people of Asgard don’t consider all of this a religion and don’t have religion the way we do here on Earth, which neatly explains why none of you thought it was a big deal to be worshipped as gods because frankly, you had no idea what any of us were really talking about.” Darcy paused to see what Loki thought of that much of her summary and analysis. He might not have asked for that last bit, but he was getting it anyway.

Loki nodded thoughtfully.

“And eventually you all started ignoring our prayers, figuring we were just whiney SOBs who needed to roll up our sleeves and start saving ourselves. But it wasn’t anything actually personal, you just weren’t actually gods and not remotely responsible for us, and you just… stopped pretending that you were.”

Loki shrugged and nodded again.

“So, in the midst of all of this, there are several things that I would consider religious beliefs, but that you and the rest of Asgard take as simple facts of reality. Like the  _ fact  _ that everyone gets reincarnated, until they don’t, or until the Big Honking Apocalypse after which this reality ends and a new one begins. And the  _ fact  _ that this world is really a dream, which is why almost anything is possible if you can just figure out how to do it. And the  _ fact  _ that enlightenment is just one more stage in a clearly defined moral development that anyone can attain if they want to. And the  _ fact  _ that moral development is… well, no. Hmm. Well, up to the second moral development thing, how am I doing?” 

“There is, of course, a great deal of nuance unsaid, but I would say in general you have it, darling. Do continue.”

Darcy nodded and was quiet for a moment.

“So. Your system of moral development. Not everyone is required to begin it, but sorcerers are. Because no one wants evil sorcerers. So not all sorcerers are good, but none of them are evil, either. But pretty much everyone knows it, and anyone who wants to can begin it. There are nine levels and just because you’ve begun a level doesn’t mean you’ve mastered it. Mostly they’re done in order, but every now and then someone throws a wrench in that plan, and you’re one of those oddballs. No one’s allowed to talk shit about work they haven’t done personally, and once a person begins they can kinda tell if other people have, too, depending on how far along they are. And everyone is clear that level nine masters are annoying to live with. And I would now like you to explain to me once more, and slowly this time, and maybe using very small words, why you beginning level nine is a good thing. Because I want to live with you. Without the annoying part. And also,” Darcy paused, looking down and having a hard time saying the next bit. She took a deep breath. “Explain to me how this doesn’t make us even less compatible as a couple. Because I’m not seeing it. And that freaks me out a little. Actually, kind of more than a little.”

Loki’s arm that rested just behind her shoulders came down to wrap around her. He leaned in and kissed her hair.

“I am now beginning to consider that the common wisdom that holds masters of the ninth gate apart from the rest to be… less than wise. I have studied with one such a master. She had a delightful sense of humor, really. She just never bothered to explain the joke to anyone, and she tended to speak in riddles. I had assumed at the time that we got on well because she was quite chaotic, but I don’t know, now. I believe that the Aesir hold masters of the ninth at arms length because they are inconvenient. They are constant reminders of what everyone could be if they but made the choice. And they are invariably happy people, regardless of what occurs to them. The miserable and angry never enjoy having truly, unstintingly happy people around, or so I have observed thus far. Such people want others to take them seriously, and a master of the ninth takes very little seriously, or so I have noticed.”

“Interesting,” Darcy said. “But not actually addressing my main fears.”

Loki nodded. “I’m getting to that part. You must understand, my love, that most of Aesir society has  _ not  _ chosen to work through their gates. Oh, yes, they do a bit of this and a bit of that. Everyone has their child read at birth to have an understanding of the challenges presented by their past lives.”

Darcy blinked.

“Everyone tries at the compassion and forgiveness outlined in the progress of the gates, but to do so without committing oneself to the endeavor is to fail before one even begins. And if the first gate is broken, as it is for many, it is ignored just as easily. To break a gate isn’t conscious. It is simply a sign that the person in question is ready and prepared to work through it. To master a gate is very much a conscious action. The effort required is actually not terribly large. It is, however, a form of mental training, and it does require  _ some  _ effort and  _ some  _ is too much of a commitment for many people.”

“Kay,” Darcy said, still waiting.

“All of this is to say that I am not concerned in the least about our compatibility. First, I refuse to alienate you, my dearest. I do believe that many masters of the ninth take delight in confounding those around them. I vow to take delight in other things. Second, you have frequently expressed an earnest desire to learn everything you can, and I will not set any limits on your lust for learning, my dear. That you will master every gate you break is obvious to me, and that you will likely do it at the pace and level of voracity typical of your realm will likely make all of my newfound apprentices positively unhinged with jealousy. Which you may not be surprised to discover, I shall find endlessly amusing.”

Darcy swallowed. Well, it made sense this time. She took a deep breath and reached up to cover the hand that was still on her shoulder.

“That is… really daunting, Loki.”

Loki nodded. “I know, darling. Honestly, I do. I was once where you were. I had a fearsome prophecy to spur me on. I was utterly determined to master all of the gates before it came to pass. And yet it seemed so utterly impossible. But others had done it and seemed to be happier for the experience. I can tell you this, though it seems implausible: every step you take along this road will be larger than the one before it, but every step you take along this road will be easier than the one before it. The worst is always the first.”

“What is the first step?” Darcy asked, her voice a whisper, barely audible over the sound of the bubbling water around them.

Loki squeezed her shoulder with one hand and the other found her free hand in the water. He held it before he spoke. “The first step is to be willing. To hold in your heart even the tiniest grain of willingness. The willingness to be wrong. The willingness to seek out the truth. The willingness to be something quite different than what you think you are at present. Even that incomprehensibly tiny grain of willingness is enough to make mountains tremble, to make earth quake, to make seas roar.”

Darcy found herself shaking uncontrollably, tears starting to gather in her eyes. She  _ wanted  _ that. All of that. She  _ wanted  _ to be willing. She wanted to join Loki in whatever happy mental paradise he was in. And yet there was something inside that really, really, really didn’t want to do it. That felt so  _ afraid.  _ It didn’t make sense, but it felt so real. She was about to ask about that when she found herself asking something else, entirely.

“Why is this so hard?” she asked, and barely recognized her own voice it was so small.

“Because you are far more powerful than you realize, and the tiniest decision in this direction made in the furthest and deepest recesses of your mind has the power to tear down the illusions of this world and wake even the Dreamer herself. And there is nothing that Fear fears more than that, as when the Dreamer awakes, Fear dissolves into the nothingness it truly is.

“You are safe, my darling. If you choose to have that tiny grain of willingness right now, you are safe. If you choose not to, you are safe.”

She was still shaking. “I want to,” she whispered harshly.

Loki pulled her onto his lap, shifting slightly to accommodate her legs. Her arms instantly went around his neck, and for perhaps only the second time in such a position, there was nothing remotely sexual about it.

“That is enough, darling. That is enough. You have just taken the hardest step, my love. Nothing in your future will be quite so bad as this.”

Darcy was sniffling and trying not to cry, lest someone walk in on them and notice. She still had some serious doubts about all of it, but one thing was absolutely certain in her mind. She had some catch-up work to do. Loki thought she was up to the challenge and so Darcy suddenly decided that no one else’s opinion on the matter counted. Not even the naysayer in her head.

_ ‘I can do this. It’s big, it’s important, and I’m behind. Which is actually pretty familiar, given that I’m a college student. But I can do this. I can and I will and it might suck a lot but I officially don’t care. If Loki needs to be enlightened to meet his fate, I’m going to join him there as soon as I can manage it. And then we can both be annoying to live with. _

_ ‘Which actually sounds pretty appealing.’ _

* * *

“Wait, wait, wait. So you mastered the gates in  _ what  _ order?”

“One, two, three, eight, seven, four, five, six.”

Darcy blinked. “Why?”

Loki shrugged. “Mostly I remain perplexed. I have considered that perhaps I went through them in the order of difficulty. It’s what I tell myself, but truly, I know not. But the sixth gate has to do with understanding and accepting the role of your body, and as both a shapeshifter and unknowingly Jotunn, I’m frankly surprised that I mastered it at all. It was a lengthy process, though now I understand why that must have been.”

“Okay. Yeah. That makes sense. What about the next to last one. Which was it?”

“The fifth gate. It has to do with one’s fate. Which I already knew, and in the most detailed way conceivable. That was also quite difficult to work through, but at least I knew why. I didn’t understand at the time, if I was going through them in order of difficulty, as I seemed to, why my fate shouldn’t be the most difficult thing of all, next to the ninth gate which remained almost pure fantasy to me.”

“Why? I mean, about the ninth being pure fantasy?”

“There is nothing of it written that is not in riddles, Darcy. It is utterly obscure.”

“But you haven’t spoken in riddles about it to me. Are you breaking rules or something?”

Loki grinned and shook his head. “Not at all. I speak to you as clearly as I can, but even so, there are things I’m simply not saying, yet.”

Darcy nodded slowly. “I kinda want you just to tell me everything.”

“I understand the urge. Do you realize that if I were to do so, you would likely think that I was speaking in riddles, even though I would not be? That you might think you understood, but you would have only understood one or perhaps two levels and not the deepest truth that can be conveyed by the words? That I could not adequately explain the depth of it? That the truth of it must be experienced to be known, and that once it is you can no longer view anything in the way you once did, having finally seen it for what it is?”

Darcy blinked and thought for a moment. “That last bit. That’s why you were laughing, wasn’t it?”

Loki nodded. 

Darcy thought for a moment, kicking her feet up until her toes poked through the watery foam at the top of the turbulent hot tub they were still in.

“Lay it on me.”

Loki immediately began speaking, in riddles.

“You are not you and I am not me.”

They were both quiet for a moment before Darcy nodded and he spoke again.

“Death is not real.”

Darcy shifted and pulled her feet back, sitting on the underwater bench and putting her shoulders right in front of a jet. She nodded and he spoke again.

“Time has but one purpose, and that is for the Dreamer to awake.”

Darcy sighed and put up her hand. Loki shifted and slid out of the tub to sit on the edge of the tiled floor. After a moment she joined him, half thinking that it might be nice to take a quick swim in the colder pool before coming back to the frothy hot tub. The other half of her brain was thinking of her husband, The Riddler.

“And all of those riddles aren’t riddles. They’re actually home truths delivered by someone who doesn’t care how annoying or infuriatingly obtuse they’re being. Not that you were being annoying on purpose. I asked for examples.”

Loki smiled. “Exactly. Imagine someone who responds to your innocuous comment on the weather, or breakfast, or a suggestion of a walk, or an expression of regret, or a technical query on the nature of magic or a particular spell with one such phrase. It grates. And I promise I shan't ever do such a thing. Feel free to hit me if I slip up and do so.”

Darcy snorted silent laughter and nodded. She went and swam a bit before she returned. Loki was still sitting on the side of the hot tub, his feet immersed in the water. She watched him as he watched her walk back toward him and she could see the appreciation in his gaze. It made her smile.

“So. Tell me more about the gates you mastered. It was, what… your body, and before that your fate. What was before that?”

“The fourth gate, which concerns one’s will. It is the final of the first set, which are sometimes called the Gates of Compassion. It confused me mightily that I did not finish it with the first three.”

“And the one before that?” Darcy asked, her hand on his leg, tracing idle circles.

Loki laughed and Darcy looked up sharply. It was an interesting laugh. A kind of self-deprecating one that spoke volumes about the sheer number of awkward moments it was covering up. She raised an eyebrow.

“That… would be the seventh gate. It involves mastering pleasure. And desire. And ambition. And hope.”

Darcy raised her eyebrow even further. “It sounds like there are a lot of fascinating stories you need to tell me about mastering the seventh gate, Loki, dear.”

Loki laughed that same laugh again. “All in good time, love. The gate before that was the eighth, in case you’re curious.”

She smiled indulgently, watching him change the subject. 

“Tell me about the eighth gate,” she said, still smiling at him.

“One masters death. And all of the pain accumulated from one’s previous lives.”

Darcy’s smile dropped and she blinked at him. That was one hell of a subject change. “And before that?”

“Gates three, two, and first of all, one. Three is the conquering of bloodlust, the desire for vengeance and retribution, and indeed, attack in any form. I had mastered it before I returned home at the end of my apprenticeship. You can imagine how well my father liked that, though of course Frigga was thrilled for me. And now, perhaps, you understand how little I wanted to learn the arts of war, having just rid myself of all urges of bloodlust.”

“Whoh. Yeah. I can’t imagine Odin was particularly happy. And… I mean, Loki. You’re  _ so  _ diligent about your weapons training. I don’t get it.”

His smile was tight. “I enjoy many freedoms and many, many privileges, Darcy. But I cannot refuse to be a warrior, however distasteful I may find it. I am Odin’s son. I am a prince of Asgard. And were I to refuse, he would simply make me begin again. I would far prefer to spend a miniscule amount of time each day maintaining my skills than to be pressed into another solid century of training every day for ten hours.” He smiled more genuinely. “I have more interesting things to do.”

Darcy nodded. “I get that, I guess. It just seems weird.”

“It is weird. My culture values the warrior above all else. Yours, the independent spirit. These values are beyond rational argument. They simply are. It is best to acknowledge them, I think. It takes away some portion of their power over us when we do.”

Darcy nodded again, thoughtful. “What about the first two, then? The gates, I mean.”

“Continuing our reverse order discussion, the mastery of the second gate involves compassion for your parents. Mastery of the first gate involves compassion for yourself.”

Darcy sighed. “I’m gonna want to know a whole lot more. Especially about the first and ninth gates. But not right now. Let’s keep it in the overview stage for now. So, what else is useful to know about the gates?”

Darcy watched as Loki pushed himself to the middle of the hot tub where it was deeper. He sunk to his knees and sat back slightly so the water was up to his chin. Darcy couldn’t help but smile, watching him enjoy it so much. She popped out again to restart the jets and turn up the temperature. Again.

“Well,” he began once she’d returned. His head was tipped back and he was looking at the ceiling. “Mastering a gate doesn’t exempt one from ever dealing with such issues again. My own loss of compassion with Thor would be an excellent example. One might imagine that a master of the compassionate gates would find no problem at all in dealing with annoying members of his own family. One would, of course, be quite wrong. To master an issue means, when such an issue arises once more, that it is easily noticed and easily resolved, but not that it is, as it were, automatic. Some effort is still involved. And if that effort is not expended, well…”

Darcy waited for him to finish his thought and honestly, she had no idea what he was going to say.

“Well?” she prompted, eventually.

“In such an eventuality, mastery is lost.”

“Ugh!” Darcy said, and louder than she’d meant to.

“Indeed. All the more impetus, you see, for me to deal with my brother with efficiency and compassion. As much of both as I can muster.” Loki glanced over and must have taken note of Darcy’s stricken expression. He smiled. “It will be fine, darling. Truly. I will do what must be done. I will not lose any of my mastery. And if he continues to behave himself and treat you with respect it shall be all the easier. And if not? Well, I shall manage nonetheless.”

Darcy digested that. She had had no idea how much was personally at stake for him. How much he could lose if he didn’t figure his shit out, like, whoa. 

Loki came closer and held out his hands to her under the water.

“Darcy, my dearest love. Truly. You need not fear for me. This is work I would have had to do at some point.”

Darcy gave him a look.

“Yes, well,” he admitted. “Now isn’t the time I might have chosen. Perhaps.” His lips quirked into a little smile, a secret smile and he inched closer. “But then again, perhaps it is the perfect time. With you by my side, Darcy, I can face anything. Even my self-righteous elder brother.”

* * *

“So, we’re not bringing Thor?”

Jane gave him a look. “He didn’t burn down the gas station last night. Sorry. Ugh. The Lab. I swear I actually want to call it The Lab, only Darcy keeps calling it the gas station, and well, okay, obviously it’s been a gas station and a pretty trippy one, I mean, but that’s New Mexico for you, right? I mean, this close to Roswell everything is alien themed. I’m surprised there aren't the heads of little green men painted on the walls or something.”

“Jane.” Selvig’s voice was back to that concerned one he sometimes used.

“I’m fine! And he’ll be fine here, too.”

“But we’re going to go have lunch. Without him. He seems like a perfectly nice fellow, actually.”

Jane groaned. “No. No. No. You are not allowed to like him. First  _ Pratchett  _ and now you? No. No. I’ll send you home, Erik, I really will. And you won’t get to help me rebuild the entire multidisciplinary field of science. You are  _ not _ allowed to like him.”

“Okay, okay,” Erik said, eyebrows raised and palms up. He kept his voice quiet, just as she was. After all, said unlikable fellow was in his bedroom with the door closed, doing whatever it was he did in there by himself for hours on end. Sleep, probably. “I won’t like him. But I am curious about why  _ you  _ don’t like him. Was it because of something that Loki said?” he asked, his tone darkening toward the end.

Jane rolled her eyes. Selvig still didn’t like even the idea of Loki, but that was just because he hadn’t had an opportunity to spend any time with him. And yesterday afternoon didn’t count. Everyone was on edge. Well, everyone except Darcy. Nothing tilted that girl.

Jane sighed, thinking about the rest of Erik’s comment. She hadn’t, up until now, felt the need to actually tell him about the whole ‘Princess Jane’ thing. It was weird. It was mystical. It was…

“It’s not Loki. It’s just… It’s complicated,” she finally settled on.

Erik’s disbelief was written all over his face. “You explain complicated things all the time, Jane. Try me.”

Jane sighed and started pacing. “Okay, fine. Long story short. Their mother, Frigga? She’s a seer, right? Saw Darcy coming. Well, she saw me coming, too. That’s why I have all these nifty toys. And she kinda let something slip without meaning to, and I know absolutely that I’m marrying into that family. Odds are it’s going to be Thor and not, you know, in twenty years, Darcy’s yet-unborn son. And yes!” she hissed as quietly as she could, though she was building up a head of steam. “I’m pissed! I don’t want my future dictated to me by anyone, and pretty boy may be cute, and he’s certainly got that kicked puppy vibe going on, but he’s an idiot! And okay, if he’s anything like his brother, the sex would be mindblowing.” Jane paused, her rebellious brain taking a moment to ponder that eventuality. Loki’s brother. Sex with Loki’s brother. Mindblowing sex with Loki’s brother.

Jane cleared her throat. “Right. Um, where was I?”

“You were imagining having sex with Thor,” Erik said while smirking.

“I was not!” Jane denied loudly, and then remembered to lower her voice. “I was not!” she hissed again, quietly this time. “He’s an idiot. That’s where I was. And I’d like to point out that he’s a disowned, banished idiot! This is not just my personal opinion. Or just Loki’s, though I’d like to point out for the record, that if Loki told me to go jump off a bridge, I’d do it. I’d ask a lot of questions, but I’d do it.”

Erik’s hands were raised again, palm forward as he leaned back. “I get it. You trust Loki,” he said, matching her volume if not her tone.

“Erik. Thor needs to grow the hell up. He’s… he’s like… a party boy. And apparently he genuinely doesn’t see the need to be any more responsible or, or  _ discerning  _ than he already is. And before I found out all of this, this,  _ prophecy  _ stuff,” Jane paused to sigh, “I promised, as a favor to Loki, that he could live out his banishment with me, as my assistant. Or one of them, anyway. Give him a safe place to work on his shit and learn something about himself, maybe. And I swear I was predisposed to like him. I mean, haven’t we all made stupid mistakes? Haven’t we all been undergrads?”

Jane collapsed in the kitchen chair she’d abandoned earlier. Hands covering her face, she continued to speak quietly, her voice somewhat muffled. “And then this prophecy thing happened and now… now? Now I don’t even want to  _ see  _ him until he grows up. It’s just so…  _ weird.  _ It’s weird and it’s bizarre and it’s…” Jane trailed off, not sure what it was, exactly.

“And it’s your life,” Erik pointed out.

Jane dropped her hands to her lap. She felt miserable. “Yeah. I guess it is.” She sighed. “And I feel like even more of an awful person for resenting Darcy hers. I mean, Erik, they are so happy together.  _ So  _ happy. You probably couldn’t tell when they were here. I mean, I think Loki was stressed because of Thor. But they are just  _ stupid  _ in love.”

“And you’re worried that you’re never going to have that. With the prophecy.”

Jane nodded slowly, realizing for the first time that it was true. “What if I meet someone else? What if I want to marry someone else? Am I going to mess everything up?”

“Do you mean with Frigga and Loki, or with the very fabric of space and time?”

Jane made a choking noise. She just nodded.

“I’d say forget about it, if you can. Do what you want to do without reference to it. Live your life, Janey. Be happy. And if one day you realize you are most happy with Thor? So be it. And if you never have that realization? So what? Don’t try to map out your future right now. Don’t you have enough to do with an Institute to form?”

Jane took several deep breaths and let that sink in. When she looked up, Erik was smiling, and somehow, again, it made her think of her Dad. She nodded and then nodded again. “Well, okay. I already ordered his lunch from the diner for today. I’ll go pick that up in a minute. But we’ll take him to Mom’s tomorrow, okay? Because that’s what I would have done if I hadn’t known.” Jane laughed. “You know? I had been treating this like some kind of crazy arranged marriage. But that’s not what it is, is it?”

Erik shook his head.

“No. It’s not.” Jane sighed and smiled for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. “The prophecy is like… a polaroid of the future. It doesn’t describe how or why or when. And so in the meantime… I get to be me. And the me I’m gonna be is gonna be happy.”

“Good,” Erik said, a broad smile on his face.

* * *

Thor closed the volume, making a note of which chapter he’d managed to finish, first. There was so much to consider and his mind was a whirl, but it was strangely comfortable here. It wasn’t his accommodation or his hostess, it was something else that he couldn’t identify at first. He laid awake most of the night before, though, considering the issue.

There was lightning in the walls. He could hear the quiet, gentle pitch of its voice, without being able to make out the words. At first it was infuriating, to not understand. And then when Thor realized that  _ this  _ was his magic that was bound, fury changed to grief and tears leaked out of his eyes. He’d never known that lightning could do anything but shriek in glee, but here on Midgard it burbled in quiet creeks and brooks, quite tame, and all around them.

Thor had just gotten up his nerve to ask his hostess if she had any books about the history of the taming of lightning, for he was very curious indeed, when he paused, his hand at the door. He’d only managed to bring it ajar when his attention was arrested by the man, Selvig’s words,  _ “So, we’re not bringing Thor?” _

Thor blinked, instinctively stepping back. He tried to close the door quietly, but his arm wouldn’t move, wouldn’t obey his command.

He should  _ not _ listen at the door. One is likely to hear something one might wish one hadn’t. He hadn’t listened at a door since he was a child. He’d been caught by a servant who had scolded him roundly, but not before he’d been left with deep scars he’d dared not mention to anyone else. How could he? It wasn’t his secret to tell. And he couldn’t bear to bring more pain to his brother, whose secret it was.

And yet, he held fast, unmoving, dreading to hear and dreading to block it out. They were speaking of him and he was desperate to know of it. And as he listened, his skin turned pale, and then ashen, as he stood mortified and rooted to the spot.

Did he blink? Did he breathe? Did his heart even dare to beat the entire time he listened to their conversation?

When they were finished, and his hostess left to secure his meal, everything was explained. Everything, and nothing at all.


	9. Wherein Darcy reads theology.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets a guided meditation, Pratchett returns with extra cuteness, and Hill is not amused with Fury’s choice in code names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for sticking with me. It does rather seem like this story is the long haul, but I'm still having fun, so, you know, here's to doing what you love!
> 
> And this chapter, and the speed with which I've released it, is dedicated to the reader/reviewer amokeh. It's a prize. She knows perfectly well why, and so will you if you happen to read everything there is to read. ;)

Darcy pulled the book out of her trunk, after locating it. It took several more minutes than necessary, as she kept on getting sidetracked by other spines bearing fascinating titles. The one she was looking for was obviously one that Frigga had had combined with others. It was a thick volume, and as far as Darcy could tell, only the first thirty pages or so was the book Loki had recommended. The Poetry of the Nine Gates, with commentary. The author was anonymous, but it had been verified by masters of all the gates, apparently. When she’d finally found it, she pulled it out and padded back to bed to snuggle up to Loki, who had one of Jane’s old physics textbooks. He had the look of a man doing complex mathematical calculations in his head, so she was quiet when she cracked her own book open, even as she hooked one of her legs over his, under the covers. Loki’s nearest hand found her thigh and his fingers drew idle patterns as they both read.

Initially Darcy had thought she would speed read through this book, too, but by the second stanza of poetry she knew her mistake and begun again. This... was _not_ her normal fare, and somehow the poet managed to use five words for every three pages worth of meaning that one of her instructors could have lectured on. She read through the entire poem - it wasn’t long - and then started in on the commentary. By the time she’d finished the commentary for the first gate stanza, as it was called, she couldn’t handle it anymore.

Darcy shut the book with a sharp snap, just a hair’s breadth before crossing the line into treating books disrespectfully. She put it on the nightstand and threw the covers off herself, and then shucked her nightie and grabbed the jeans she’d discarded earlier and pulled them on, commando. Ignoring the need for a bra - she wasn’t planning on being out of bed terribly long, as it was late and she was tired - she pulled a tee shirt over her head and looked back to her husband, still lying in bed.

Well, she had his undivided attention. He had closed his own book and held it on his lap as he sat up in bed, propped up on pillows, his naked torso rising from the sheet and blanket that covered his hips and legs.

“Are you well, darling?” he asked, gently.

“I need,” Darcy started, not actually knowing what she was going to say before she said it. “Some air,” she finished. “Yeah. Desert air, for preference.” She pushed her feet into her sandals and straightened up again.

“May I accompany you, or would you prefer to be alone?” His tone was still gentle, and he hadn’t moved.

She nodded. “Come with me.”

Loki immediately rose from the bed, placing his own book on the bed side table. His stunningly naked body was soon clothed. Mostly. The standard-issue black leather pants and black boots were in place, though nothing else.

“Do I require a shirt, or would you prefer I neglect to wear one?”

Darcy smiled despite herself, but went to get her Culver sweatshirt. “Will you get cold?”

Loki raised one eyebrow, but Darcy didn’t get it.

“Though I do enjoy being comfortably warm, even in this form I rarely become uncomfortably cold, particularly now that I am able to remember who I am.”

 _How does that work,_ Darcy wondered, even as her brow furrowed.

“I have only recently discovered that the shapeshifting transformation has many levels. And before I am noticeably reminiscent of a frost giant on the outside, other aspects of my physiology may gain the benefits therein.”

 _So you don’t need to turn blue to become Polar!Loki._ “Huh,” she replied. After a moment she blinked and shook herself out of a brief fantasy of him wearing not much at all for as long as possible. “Yeah. You don’t need a shirt.”

Darcy walked over to him and took his hand, and then concentrated on where she wanted to take him.

* * *

“If I called your religion complete and raving bullshit, would you think less of me?”

Loki looked over at his beloved, a grin blossoming on his face. He gently squeezed the hand that held hers as they stood in the Arizona desert, allowing their eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Not at all, my love. I take it you did not enjoy the Gate Poet?”

Darcy sighed and Loki watched as her head tipped back. “It’s not the poetry. The poetry is beautiful. And a little like, oh, I don’t know, drinking a straight shot of kale juice or something. It’s the commentary!”

His love made some sort of gargled cry of frustration and Loki kept the laughter on the inside, considering that perhaps it would not be well met at just this juncture.

“You are not alone in finding the process frustrating, love. Was there something in particular that you recall, or is it general frustration you feel?”

Darcy made another inarticulate sound of frustration and dismay. Loki held his laughter within himself and maintained an admirably straight face.

“I am to believe,” she began, then paused, “that this is, in fact, for reals, yo. I mean, you’re not pulling my leg. This is actually the mental-slash-emotional-slash-moral training that has led you to be the fine specimen of awesome that you are today.”

“That is correct,” Loki replied, with a straight face. She was so incredibly adorable. And she had no idea that most every first year apprentice has had the self same reaction to their moral training, and somehow now seemed not to be the moment to enlighten her to the fact.

“Yeah. Okay. So, bear with me, here, hun. I’m not implying you’re lying or anything. But I’m seriously having a hard time believing this. Like, seriously. Hard time. Like, ‘are you shitting me’ levels of hard time. Please make this right in my brain.”

“Do you follow a religion, yourself?” Loki asked. He didn’t think so, but he wanted to make sure.

“Nope,” she replied.

Well, that made some things easier, and some more difficult. No matter.

“Right now,” Loki began, tentatively, “I have a feeling that you take things fairly seriously. Not to say that you haven’t a sense of humor. But when you think a thought in your head you are quite sure that it is you who are thinking it, and thus it is a trustworthy thought. That is, that you may continue thinking it without any harm to yourself. Am I more or less correct on this assumption?”

Loki paused to make sure he was explaining well enough.

“I’ve never really thought about it like that, but yeah. Okay. I’m with you. All my thinky-thoughts are mine, mine, mine. So?”

“One of the main underpinnings of this moral training, of the nine gates, is that not all of your thoughts are generated by the real you.”

“That’s… creepy. Okay.”

“It gets creepier,” he said softly. “Further, that none of the thoughts generated by the other are at all good for you. Harm comes to you from them, each and every thought that doesn’t originate with your true self, sooner or later.”

“Yeah, that’s creepier,” Darcy agreed with only a moment’s hesitation.

“Progressing through the gates increases a person’s ability to discern between their own, true thoughts and the thoughts of the other. But at first, it is all confusion. And as always, fear and anger bubble to the surface, first. Frustration is but anger lightly veiled.”

Loki watched as Darcy let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around herself. He put his hand at her shoulder and after a murmured query for permission, stood behind her and wrapped his own arms around her as well. He could feel her sigh as well as hear it. She took several deep breaths before she spoke again.

“Okay,” she began, her head tilted back to look at the stars. “How do I do this, then?”

“Whenever you are unsure about your thoughts, especially at the beginning, this is what you should do. If you haven’t already, begin to deepen your breathing. Yes, just so. Take a mental and perhaps even physical step away from the moment, just as you have. Find your calm center and when you are calm and joyful once more, then and only then, ask yourself if the thought you had about something was joyful. Was it life-giving? You can also do this when you have a question about what you should do. Ask yourself the question when in your calm center and then look at the responses that you get in your thoughts. Which thought responses are joyful and life-giving? Which aren’t? Joy is always a product of your true self. The other can never provide it. The other only offers fear, pain, and suffering.”

Darcy sighed. “Will you help me find my calm center?” she asked, her voice not that of a young woman, but of a young child.

“Of course, my darling.”

Loki held her and guided her meditation as they stood in the crisp night air among the saguaros which she so loved. At long last, she spoke.

“Wow.” She took in another deep breath and when she exhaled Loki could feel the difference in her. “Wow,” she repeated. “I was, like, really mad. Like, _really_ mad.”

Loki just nodded silently.

“But _I_ wasn’t really mad. Like, the thoughts that I totally believed were my own thoughts, making really good and angry points about what I was reading, that I totally bought… they weren’t my thoughts. I mean, I was mad, it was me, but I was mad because I believed thoughts that… well,” here she paused more than just briefly. “They lied to me,” Darcy said, her voice quite small and somewhat disbelieving.

“Well put. The other does nothing but lie.”

After a moment, his beloved responded. “Is that weird for you? I mean, as the Master of Lies?”

Loki smiled ruefully and rested his cheek against the side of her head. He briefly considered his response before settling simply for, “Yes.”

“Has it made it easier or harder for you?”

“That is not easy to say, in truth, for no one may know fully the ease or difficulty another has with the gates, only how much one resists. I suspect it was a variable increasing the speed at which I went through the gates. Certainly I have never heard of a master breaking the ninth gate before the twenty-fifth decade. Perhaps, too, it had something to do with the order in which I broke them. Still, I am caught up sometimes by the most convincing liar I have ever encountered in the whole of my life - the one in my head. And you, my darling, have born witness to many of those moments of late.”

Darcy was quiet for a moment before she spoke. “Just a few, really. I mean, it hasn’t been that bad, has it?”

Loki laughed, squeezing her tighter just for a moment. “O, my love. You are too kind. I could give you the chronological listing if you like, from the moment we met. Truly, the sheer number of times I have lost perspective would be shocking, had I not been slightly prepared.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, once I realized that you were, indeed, my beloved, and I yours, that was a relief, you see. Well-matched couples are the best partners in supporting the breaking and mastering of gates, if only because a well-matched couple will ferret out the darkness in one another in ways that no other could manage.”

Darcy was quiet. “So, wait. Was that zen-speak for ‘Loki has an uncanny ability to piss off Darcy like nobody else?’”

Loki threw back his head and laughed, still holding her tightly. “Yes, I suppose it was. And likewise, my dear.”

Darcy made an adorable grumbling noise. “But I don’t _want_ to piss you off,” she whined.

He rocked side to side, still holding her within his embrace. “We are married, love. It is inevitable.”

She snorted. “At least until we both master the ninth gate, then we piss off other people.”

Loki threw back his head and laughed once more. “That’s the spirit!”

It didn’t take long for Darcy to join him in his laughter.

* * *

Jane watched Thor covertly. She’d given up fooling herself that she wasn’t doing it at all. Because, you know, she was. He was at the sink, cleaning the breakfast dishes and Selvig was in the shower. Jane was at her desk, ostensibly, doing things.

“Ah, thou musn’t use thy claws so, young master Pratchett. Still, I suppose thou must have a firm grip on thy perch. Thou wouldst not like, I suppose, to go tumbling into the water, no matter how warm? No, indeed.”

He was cooing at her cat. He was cooing like Shakespeare might coo. At her cat. Her traitorous cat who was perched on his shoulder. While he did the dishes.

He had asked if she had a book on the history of electricity at breakfast. She didn’t have one that fit the bill, but she was currently on Amazon ordering one for him. Well, that’s what she was doing before she was distracted by the most beautiful blond man she’d ever seen do dishes with a kitten on his shoulder.

 _This really should be an Internet video_ , a small part of her thought before she crushed it.

But she wasn’t staring. That would be beyond the pale. No, Jane was not at all _staring_. She was just noticing. Regularly. On the sly.

She took a deep breath and exhaled very, very quietly. The question was, was she somewhat attracted to him because she knew she could possibly have a future with him, you know, after he’d grown up and joined the land of responsible adults? Or was she attracted to him because, you know, Frigga’s boys were obviously both smoking hot men, and you’d have to be the wrong gender preference or blind and deaf not to notice? Loki and Thor seemed like night and day, but perhaps they weren’t totally dissimilar…

Jane cracked down on her thoughts. He was going to be her assistant. She was responsible for him and it would be totally irresponsible, and not to mention an abuse of power, for her to even entertain the idea of an affair with him. And besides! Last week she was trying desperately not to fantasize about Loki. (She was mostly good, but that night she caught them having sex on the main room floor was a tough one.) And now she’d moved on to the other brother? And, well, perhaps just that one moment of imagining both of them?

Jane was discovering an incredibly fickle and shallow part of herself that she did not like at all. And the fact that every moment of his interactions with Pratchett qualified for viral kitten video status really _did not help._

* * *

Hill was not surprised to be pulled from her regular duties to perform the present task. As code names went, however, this one was nothing short of ridiculous. ‘Sunny Day’ was a project for anything but. The Director’s biting sense of humor was apparently off leash today.

She hadn’t been briefed on why she was doing what she was doing, but then again, she didn’t need to be. It was obvious from the scope of work. She was preparing for the downfall of SHIELD, providing for a new and vastly different structure for a few key functional cells which would operate independently of one another, and operate too, within other government departments and feed off their budgets.

It made sense, really. In this vastly changing world, they needed a mobile cell to deal with 084’s before they all became black holes and supervillains. They needed a mobile cell to deal with the black holes and supervillains. They needed an administrative cell to manage the archive and influx of information. They needed a mobile cell to clean up former operations… and that was it.

It was lean, clean, and had fewer moving parts, which meant fewer places where it could fail spectacularly. Of course, the mobile cell to deal with black holes and supervillains was actually Fury and Coulson’s pet project that had ‘danger’ and ‘explosive’ and ‘really bad idea’ written all over it in capital letters. So really, though it had fewer moving parts, as one of them was Tony Stark and another was that green monstrosity that came out of Culver, it didn’t need as many moving parts to be just as logistically nightmarish as SHIELD currently was.

With any luck at all, they wouldn’t need any of it. Perhaps this would be just the eighth unnecessary contingency plan she’d created for the Director. Eighth, most outlandish, and least likely to fail, in her opinion.

Hill continued in her work, ignoring for a moment that her part in it would be clean up, and thereafter archive head. If it did become necessary, she would do her duty. And when she was finished, she’d do the unthinkable; retire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is true, this is a shorter chapter. But if you're curious about why that might be, go check out Part Four of this series, which includes the book that Darcy was reading that so pissed her off. Because I also wrote that while writing this chapter. And it's longer.


	10. Wherein full literacy becomes quite important.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy learns the limitations of language spells, the boys spar, Loki exhibits, sexytimes ensue, and a curious but arguably predictable event occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! The last chapter was just uber heavy, I know, and so I present to you: the obvious overlooked, the plot advancing, amusing banter, tempers lost, tears, consolation, a heavy dose of lust, banging hot sex, and a cliffhanger. You're welcome in advance.

Darcy got out of the car and stretched as Loki went into the hotel she’d liked so much in Dallas to check them in and take their few bags to their suite. Mostly it was her trunk and their bags of essential road trip munchies and paraphernalia.

It was Saturday and Loki had already had his fun, meddling with covert organizations and filling her in the details. Apparently his meddling hadn’t gone unnoticed and the head honcho had increased the capacity of his outfit to deal with moles. But amusingly, one of the new internal policemen _was_ a mole, so Loki had apparently taken that into account in the number of people he’d outed, including that one. And he was so gleeful about it, was the thing. He really did get a kick out of his own cleverness, her husband.

It made her smile.

Having stretched enough, she followed him back into the hotel when he actually came to retrieve their bags. Their essential road trip munchies were in two Whole Foods bags and one beautiful leather travelling case about the size of a gym bag, but way classier. Loki had argued against his requiring any such purchase, but Darcy pointed out that it really weirded people out when you had no luggage while travelling and checking into hotels. As it was, the trunk and the handbag were suspiciously small. When Loki had suggested that they purchase an entire set of luggage just for appearances, something in Darcy hit the redline of annoyance. One bag was a reasonable concession. Somehow an entire set just seemed too cumbersome. ‘Meh,’ had been her only response, thereafter Loki shrugged and let it drop.

After the bags and trunk were dropped off in the suite and Darcy bounced on the bed the requisite three times she declared the set of rooms totally acceptable and they went back to the lobby and out the front door only to never be witnessed pulling out of the parking lot.

Between points A and B, Darcy disapparated the both of them to directly outside the front door of the gas station. She looked down and to the right. Yep. Magic Hammer still right where Loki left it a week ago. A quick glance inside and she could see Jane and her science buddy sitting at the kitchen table animatedly discussing things. Neither one had noticed the arrival of The Intern Of Awesome, so Darcy decided to remedy this. She pulled back the glass door with a yank and a smile.

“Hey Mom, we’re home!” she called out, the cheekiest of cheeky chickens. She could almost feel Loki’s laughter behind her, though it wasn’t quite audible. His general mood had taken a turn for the more serious since they left their suite in the hotel, though the trip down the elevator and out to the parking lot was brevity itself.

Jane jumped up and all but dashed over, which was a tiny bit surprising, but, you know, nice.

“Welcome back,” Jane said quietly, enfolding Darcy in more than just a quick hug. “Life is weird here.”

She let go without any further explanation, though Darcy didn’t think she really needed one. Life _was_ weird and here was no exception. Darcy watched as Jane turned to Loki and then caught herself up short.

“Um, are you a hugging kind of person? I don’t want to overstep any boundaries. But you have been away for, like, a week, and-” Jane ended on a shrug.

And they were kinda sort of almost related in an undefined yet definite future sort of way? Strange how there was no good way to say that in the English language.

Loki merely smiled and opened his arms and Darcy watched the briefest, most platonic, and inarguably most awkward hug she’d ever witnessed. It was highly amusing, but being an adult with her big girl panties on, she did not laugh. Out loud.

 _‘I’m very proud of you, love,’_ Loki thought in her brain. Interestingly, his mental voice was laughing and his outer expression was completely composed. Damn, he was good.

Science Geek #2 wandered over, his hands in his pockets, an essay in introverted-scientist-not-in-the-midst-of-a-convo-in-his-area-of-expertise. Darcy decided to rescue him and held out her hand with a grin.

“Hey there, Doc Selvig. What’s shakin’?” Darcy had only just restrained herself from asking, ‘What’s up, Doc?’

He laughed and broke the shell of awkward that had begun to form around him like ice crystals. They shook hands as he answered.

“Jane and I were just working on some basic theories. I understand you’ll be training Thor to be an assistant to her. That will be very handy. It would be nice to have someone recording all of these ideas we’re throwing around.”

Darcy stuck her hands in her pockets and walked with Jane’s science bestie back to the kitchen area.

“Well, his training begins tonight with Computing 101. I’ll see what I can do. I make no guarantees as to time scale. Because of reasons.”

Selvig laughed, but they both became quiet when they spotted at about the same time, Thor’s bedroom door opening.

Darcy smiled a surprisingly tight and forced smile, and then wondered why.

“Good evening, my lady. You are well, I hope?” her brother-in-law asked cordially from half a room away.

“Yep. I’m great, thanks. You hanging in there?”

“I…” Thor paused, eyes searching around for a moment. “Yes. Thank you.”

Darcy watched as the moment she hoped wouldn’t actually be a trainwreck unfolded in the gas station.

Loki had walked over to Jane’s much tidier workstation and they looked like they’d just begun what might have been a nice long discussion on some minute aspect of the nature of the Universe, but his attention had been caught by big brother emerging. Thor also noticed Loki’s presence. So, yeah. Moment of complete and utter awkward silence, yo.

“Brother. Welcome back. Thou wert a much missed man.”

Thor, notably, did not stray from the entranceway to the little hall that marked the residential portion of the gas station.

Loki strode over to him without missing a beat and held out his hand. Well, actually, he held out his arm. The two grabbed each other’s extended _forearms,_ just like Darcy and Loki had during their wedding. And then the two pulled each other into a man hug par excellence, complete with a slap on the back.

“Brother,” Loki said. “I am glad to see you looking so well.” Darcy noted he hadn’t actually asked, which was interesting and just a teeny bit manipulative, maybe. “Have you been training daily?”

A pause. “No.”

“Our facilities are basic, and we shall eventually have quite an adequate training arena, but you must do some. You must maintain yourself, lest the All-Father make you start at the beginning once you return. He has threatened it to me, often enough. Have you weapons and armor here?” Well, wasn’t Loki just Mr. Hospitality? It was like watching Mr. Darcy at Pemberley.

Another pause. “No.”

“I shall acquire them on your behalf, and before I leave this evening we shall do something.” And then Loki said a word that wasn’t English, and added the English, “perhaps?” to the end. Darcy did wonder what she and Jane were in store for this evening. Because, oh yes, whatever it was was obviously intended to be a spectator sport. Duh.

“A fine idea, brother.” Clearly, Thor’s heart wasn’t in it. Interesting. Still pouting? Or something else?

Loki nodded and they finally released each other’s forearms. “And now I leave you in the capable hands of your sister, who will be teaching you some useful skills to aide the Dr. Foster.”

Darcy looked over to Selvig. “I think that’s my cue,” she whispered.

* * *

Loki refused to lie to himself, which is why he very clearly had half of his mental processes and half only devoted to the present conversation with Jane and Erik. He was also monitoring his brother’s interactions with his wife.

There was jealousy involved. It was true. And lack of trust, mostly on the part of his brother. And a deep fear that somehow, someway Darcy would wake up as from a dream and realize she’d chosen the wrong brother. It didn’t feel like a lack of trust in Darcy. It simply felt inevitable somehow.

Loki took a deep breath and released it slowly, silently. He tried to focus on his training and that helped, slightly, but it was so hard to focus with his attention split in so many directions. No. It seemed that this like so many other trying moments of late would need to wait until his midnight meditation session to resolve completely.

“Uh, Loki?” Darcy called from across the workstation table where she and Thor were seated before another computer. “Sorry to interrupt, guys. But, um, we just discovered a fascinating hitch with the language spell. And I’m really hoping there’s a quick fix. Because the alternative isn’t going to be fun for anyone, I don’t think.”

Loki furrowed his brow, utterly senseless to her meaning.

“He can’t write.”

For the briefest of moments, Loki didn’t understand why that was an issue. No language spell allowed the user to be able to write the language. The work involved in such a spell would be so intense that no one but a master in the area would be able to cast it.

And then Loki realized that they were sitting before _a computer._ The interface of which required one to be able to write, or more particularly, type the language.

And then Loki considered SHIELD’s strange propensity to _write everything down_ , and Loki suddenly considered that it perhaps wasn’t just SHIELD’s strange propensity. Books were _everywhere_ here. Much more so than when he’d first learned the English language for himself.

And then Loki realized that Thor would likely be a useless assistant if he _couldn’t_ write the language. Which meant that he would have to learn to read it and speak it as well. He had a moment of empathy and dread for his brother. English and Aesir didn’t even share a common alphabet.

“Well.” A moment later he added, “I’m afraid we’ll be doing this the hard way, then.” Loki turned to Jane. “Would I be correct in thinking that the apprentices and likely all the Aesir staff will need to be able to write, as well as read and speak the language?”

Jane’s eyes grew wide. “Apprentices, definitely. The staff? Well, if they want to be able to participate in modern life, yeah. Writing is a crucial part of literacy.”

“Okay. New plan,” Darcy said. “We'll do major concepts of digital communication tonight and figure out a long term ESL solution in a group-think tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, Darcy,” Jane reminded her. “You have weekends off, you know. I’m not sure why you’re here right now, honestly. But, whatever.”

Loki watched Darcy shrug across the room. “I’m itchy to get this ship of state started already. I have a paper I need to write.”

Jane frowned. “I’m not requiring a paper. I mean, other than the paperwork that we need to do in a few weeks.”

Loki was silent as Darcy explained.

When she was finished, Erik cleared his throat before he began to speak. “May I strongly suggest you let your professor in on the secret and time the announcement with the publication? And make it clear that it’s not speculation? And use your current name? Don’t give them a reason to distrust you, not before they know anything else about you.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes and bit her lip. “You really think so?”

The Norseman merely nodded.

“Maybe I’ll go visit my professor tomorrow.” She turned her gaze on Loki. “Wanna see my university?”

The grin that overcame him did so without his consent. “I would be delighted, love.”

“Well, let’s see if she’s available.” Darcy retrieved her cellular telephone from her hip pocket and began using it in earnest, explaining to Thor as she went, what she was doing.

“But seriously, Darcy. Tomorrow is Sunday. Do not, I repeat, do not show up here expecting to work. We need to have good boundaries about time off, yeah? Because no one else is going to make us be healthy about this, except us. And we’ll set the standard for the other staff, so it’s important. You know, unless the stuff hits the fan. Which it hasn’t. Thor learning English is not an emergency. He’s got plenty of reading material to occupy him for several more days.”

Jane might have said something after that, perhaps some point of sexual subtext about Darcy’s off time activities, and perhaps an invitation to return for dinner tomorrow evening, but Loki didn’t quite register it. She had, after all, mentioned that Thor was _reading_.

It was only when Thor met his gaze and raised an eyebrow in innocent question that Loki realized he was staring dumbly at his brother.

“My apologies,” he quickly said in Aesir. “I was momentarily lost in thought.”

“About me, I suppose?” Thor quietly and quickly responded in kind. After all, that was the way language spells worked, and Loki knew it. That’s why he chose to speak Aesir.

“Indeed. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that you are reading. What has caught your interest? Has Jane lent you books from her library?”

“I have some that Mother has given me. Your treatise on Midgard. And the Doctor Foster _has_ obtained for me a book on the history of the taming of lightning in this realm. It was very kind of her. And it is a fascinating thing, what they have done with lightning, here.”

 _‘Okay, Mischief. Totally curious over here. But please note I’m not saying anything out loud,’_ Darcy said, her sing-song thoughts echoing loudly in his mind.

Loki blinked at his brother’s response, maintaining his outer facade. Why, he wasn’t sure. Habit, perhaps. “How interesting. I look forward to discussing it all with you in the future, if you like,” he said pleasantly in Aesir, his own mind in turmoil.

Nightly in his meditations, Loki had worked bit by bit on unravelling the knot of lies that Thor had been telling himself. And nightly it was getting easier. Not once had he needed to redo the work of a previous day. Whatever was occurring in the mind of his brother, Loki considered, and not for the first time, he was beginning to learn his lessons. Or perhaps it would be better to consider that he was _getting ready_ to be able to learn his lessons. And at an astonishing speed, all things considered. He really shouldn’t have been surprised to actually see _changes_ in his brother, and yet… and yet, he _was_.

Loki squashed the urge to mildly ridicule his brother for reading, but was not entirely shocked by the errant thought. Thoughts were often errant when not consciously corralled. _I will be supportive. I will not undermine his progress._

And that was Loki’s mantra for the next hour.

* * *

Thor was not sure about this present endeavor. He would have to be very, very careful and not accidentally injure his brother. Neither his mother now, nor his father when he woke, would be likely to believe it wasn’t on purpose.

Oh, great care would be needed. Loki had never, not once, bested Thor in combat.

He looked around himself at this desolate place. It wasn’t remotely how he remembered Midgard. Much warmer, for one. Perhaps this was a different region. Or perhaps they had done something injurious to their realm, as the Jotunn had done to theirs.

He flexed and stretched as he walked around the rough ring outlined in his brother’s magic. Suddenly the green color of the lights he always associated with his brother turned a cool blue. He glanced over, only to see something he probably wasn’t meant to see. His brother turning one of his devastating, but small, smiles on his wife.

The doctors were sitting on chairs observing with Her Highness, his sister. Thor spent but a brief moment in contemplating his new sister. She was a beautiful and thoroughly happy woman, and how Loki had managed to win the heart and hand of such a one was utterly beyond him, devastating smile or no. Would she be happier, had she met him first? But no, even now, even when both doctors were staring at each of them in equal measure, Thor had noted that after Her Highness’ initial assessment of him, her eyes were for his brother, alone. Even now, with half of their bodies bared to the cool night air - Loki explained it was a custom of this realm - Her Highness spared him not even a second glance.

With a sigh, Thor realized that Loki truly had found the best sort of woman. It would do no good to court her after the handfasting. If only they had met before, things might have been different. But, alas…

The Doctor Jane Foster, for all she looked even younger than his new sister, was quite a comely little thing, and one that apparently he was likely to marry. How on earth the All-Mother had let that slip, Thor would dearly like to know. He did not anticipate knowing it for some years, however.

She seemed to not hold him in quite the same contempt that she did at first, which was a bit relieving, and more than once he could feel her gaze on him, penetrating him to his core. He wished he knew her disposition. That, too, would be some time in coming, in all likelihood.

And now he and Loki were to spar in the Vanir-Elven method. Which they hadn’t done since Loki was still training. What in the name of the nine had he agreed to?

Thor circled his brother slowly, rolling his shoulders.

“I never asked,” said he in Aesir. “How far have you progressed in the Vanir-Elven method of weaponless combat? I was ever the better than you, as I recall,” Thor pointed out in a taunting manner that was as natural to him during sparring as was attack and defense.

“Significantly,” his brother purred with a smile.

Thor threw an exploratory combination of jabs and feints. Loki handled them with ease.

“Significantly, you say?” Thor responded dubiously. After all, annoying one’s combatant was always half of the amusement in such situations.

“I don’t suppose you ever noticed,” Loki began, his words as nonchalant as his feint, spin inwards, combination of three jabs, and brilliantly executed throw over his left knee, stymied only partially by Thor’s attempt at recovery. He was face down in the dirt only for a moment, though, springing back up and away from his tricky little brother. “That I was ever holding myself back when we sparred? That I always let you win?”

The little bastard. The sneaky, lying little bastard. He had wondered a _bit_ about that. But not much.

“Your words are far too convenient and plausible for me to believe them over half, Loki Liesmith. I know your ways. I know them well,” Thor said, one jab connecting before he took to the air once more. This time he rolled as he landed, distributing the weight of the fall, and he ended upright and on his feet once more.

The sparring match continued, jab, kick, parry, throw, recovery, feint, combination, parry, throw, recovery.

“Believe them or not, as you like. But I have always kept much in reserve. I thought it might come in useful, you see, but then Father named you successor regardless.”

Thor paused, far enough away to do so safely. “Loki,” he said quietly, gently. “You knew that Father could only ever appoint one of us, and that I was the elder.”

Loki snorted in derision. “Yes. And now we also know another excellent reason why I was never meant to succeed him. Who could respect a Frost Giant on the Golden Throne?”

Thor sighed in consternation, still circling warily. “I would. If it were you. And that is in all likelihood what shall come to pass.”

Loki laughed one sharp, pointed crow that had nothing to do with happiness. “No, no, brother. Do not believe for one moment that such is the hope of either of our parents. No. You are truly here to learn your lessons and I swear that you will do just that. You can and you will. I have other things to do, and my wife does not wish to be Queen.”

Thor stared at him. “Do you swear it, Loki? That such truly are your motives?”

Loki circled. “I do. Such are my motives and further, you _will_ learn your lessons. Which is why you must keep your skills sharp. Also the reason I have no further need to hide my own from you.”

It happened too quickly to follow, or perhaps he was just so stunned, but the wind was knocked out of him just before he flew through the air.

Thor coughed and pushed himself up, circling his brother again, knowing not at all what to make of him or the situation.

“Come,” Thor said, finally. “Let us do some drills. It is obvious to me that you are the better here. And after, we shall grapple, and see who needs to hold back.”

The drills were a good idea. Thor hadn’t trained for weeks and he could feel the difference in his muscles. And honestly, he hadn’t given any regular attention to weaponless combat for many a century. Why would he, with Mjol--

Loki’s jab connected with his loss of concentration and Thor’s head snapped back.

“One is _supposed_ to pay attention whilst one is doing drills, and actually _block_ the incoming strikes in the proscribed fashion.” Loki pedantically reminded him.

“Ugh. I think my nose is broken,” Thor said with a grunt, wiping the blood and then flinging it away from his hand.

“Don’t be a baby. Straighten it and let’s continue,” said the younger and more heartless of the two sons of Odin.

They did so in silence, going through the standard drills one by one.

“You know, it’s going to swell. I’ll need a healer,” Thor said after some significant length of time.

“Your nose? Are you still on about your nose?” his heartless brother asked.

“Of course. I wasn’t aware you were supposed to injure me during my banishment.”

“Oh, please. I’ll bring down the swelling before I leave,” his not-remotely-a-healer brother offhandedly mentioned.

“No, thank you. I’ll kindly remind you that I had to have my right arm rebroken and set once more after you wielded your lack of skill on that journey to Malsogtr. What on earth did you spend all of that time studying magic for, anyhow?”

“I’ll thank _you_ to recall that I have mastery over four aspects of sorcery, which is three more than your average master and four more than your average mage. That healing is not one of them is simply a quirk of fate and not remotely my fault. But I do have a deft hand with inflammation. Ask Darcy.”

“Pardon me if I refrain, and instead warn my new sister of the danger inherent with you as a life partner.”

“ **_You will do nothing of the kind_ ** ,” Loki growled, his face twisting in a sudden rage.

Thor immediately took a mental step back and realized the folly of his words, even as the pace and intensity of their present drill suddenly increased dramatically. “I meant nothing, brother. Only to tease you about your healing follies. That is all. That is all.”

“ _She loves me. Do you understand that?_ **_She loves me and not you._ ** ” There was a manic gleam in Loki’s eye that he had not seen in many a century, and given his power over him, for the first time it truly gave Thor pause.

“I understand that, brother. Truly. I will do nothing to undermine her love for you. I promise you.”

“Good,” Loki spat. “Because if you find yourself forsworn, I will kill you. And I will kill you in each successive life and body you inhabit until the day of **_Ragnarok!_ ** ” Loki said, ending on a feral growl worthy of a bearzerker.

“Calm down, Loki,” Thor said steadily, not allowing his own fear into his voice. “I know my place and I shall not so much as tease you about it again. And you shall never have cause to test the vow you have made today.” He hesitated to say what came to mind next. He probably shouldn’t. Or should he? Perhaps now was the time? Finally? No, probably not. Best to say nothing at all--

“Say it,” Loki said tiredly. “Whatever it is that you’re thinking about so hard right now that I could have winded you yet again if I hadn’t pulled my punch. And _do_ pay attention. I _might_ not be so magnanimous again.”

“I will say it, then. And you will listen because you are no murderer. You, Loki, have striven and crafted yourself into a better man than I. And I know why. I have always known,” Thor said, and wondered at the words coming out of his mouth. They seemed to be true, so he let them continue to flow. “And I have always known that I could compete not at all - not with your motivation and not with your progress. And that is why I know that you will see _that day_ not as a murderer, but as one filled with the light of pure joy and oneness.” It all seemed to be true, and somehow like he’d known it all along, and yet Thor had never actually thought such thoughts before.

Loki’s jaw fell open and his eyes grew wide. Thor pulled his punch and then stopped. Clearly Loki no longer had an interest in the flying-over-the-bridge drill. “How?” he whispered.

Thor neared him and put both hands on Loki’s shoulders, slightly above his own. “I followed Father, that day. I was with him when Mother came. I listened at the door. A servant caught me, but not before I heard what you said, and his response. I have never forgotten. How could I? But don’t you see, Loki? You _have_ become that man, the one Father spoke of. The best man you could become.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, still whispering. Loki sounded stunned and broken. “Why did you leave me to shoulder it alone?”

“I did not wish to cause you pain,” Thor said quietly, hands squeezing Loki’s shoulders.

Tears spilled out of his brothers eyes and Thor watched as he looked up to the sky and away from their domicile. A bitter laugh bubbled up but briefly. “You have caused me _so much pain,”_ he said, and then gazed steadily at him, “over and over again.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted to be _strong,_ ” Loki said, voice breaking. “I wanted it to not hurt.”

“Well, that’s not how it works,” Thor observed somewhat dryly.

“Yes. Thank you. So helpful at this juncture.”

Thor sighed, realizing his tendency of directness was not always perfectly suited to every situation. “Can we not begin again? I love you, Loki, and I do not wish you to be in pain, and I do not wish to be the cause of it.”

In silent response, Loki’s arms went about his waist and pulled him into an easy embrace. Thor wrapped his arms around his brother’s torso and had one hand at the back of his head when he felt it drop to his shoulder. Sobs wracked his little brother’s frame but briefly, and other memories of their childhood together sprang to mind. Memories of companionship, of mending the hurts of one another.

“I’ve got you, little brother. I’m here. I shall do what I must and take this burden from you in due course. You shan't be made to shoulder any burden you don’t wish to,” Thor said softly just above Loki’s ear, his lips resting against his brother’s short-cropped hair.

“You can take the throne back, and I wish you would, but you can do nothing about the _other_ ,” he said, tears still in his voice, the same voice which broke on the last word.

Thor sighed. Loki was right, of course. And wrong at the same time. “You are not thinking rationally just now, Loki. And you have told me enough times by now that I finally understand it, that there is no use fretting over anything, big or small, when you are not thinking rationally. So stop that this instant. We will deal with things in order, and you will not be alone. You need never be alone.”

Loki took a deep and shuddering breath. And then another, and another. “I’ve broken the ninth gate,” he said quietly.

Thor blinked into the night, filled with a sudden pride in his often annoying brother. “Have you now? Well _done_ , Loki. Well done, indeed.”

“And Darcy has broken the first gate,” he added on a whisper.

“Surely you jest. She cannot be a day over fifty.”

Loki snorted. “You ass,” he said, but softened his insult with a sigh and a tightening of his arms around Thor’s waist. “That will not be viewed as a compliment, here. Midgardian women are very sensitive concerning their age. To over-estimate by a single year is considered rude. After the age of forty, to guess correctly is considered rude. My beloved happens to be just twenty-one, but looks to be, after a visit with the our healers, five years younger. Jane, in case you were curious, is not yet thirty-three, though she looks now like Darcy’s younger sister. As you may not have gotten to that point in your reading yet, in this region eighteen is the age of partial majority and twenty-one full majority,” Loki lectured and Thor refrained from biting back, or smacking him upside the head, just because. “So kindly refrain from whatever comments are shooting through your brain at present and continue to be supportive. Yes, my wife is young in terms of the Aesir, but not so in terms of those Humans who have reached such moral mastery. Humans are quite extraordinary in that regard, I find.” He continued on, in a whisper. “They are capable of so much, and so quickly.”

“How long do you think it will take her to master all of the gates, if you think she might go so far as to do so?”

Loki snorted again and settled his cheek more comfortably on Thor’s shoulder. “All of my estimates have been grossly over the mark. I dare make no such guess, except to say that it will be years, not decades, and certainly not centuries.” He sighed then, and it sounded significantly less derisive, less forlorn than at the start. “I have married, you may safely observe without fear of death or dismemberment, quite an extraordinary woman who strangely adores the very ground on which I tread. And neither you nor I shall enlighten her to the utter imbecile I can be. And that is an order. She will find out soon enough, if she hasn’t already gathered it from the available evidence. She’s rather observant, on the whole.”

Thor laughed heartily and squeezed his brother tighter. “She will not discover it from me, then!”

* * *

Loki was angry, growling in Aesir and while that turned Darcy on in a strange way that she would probably need to examine later, she was also keenly aware that Jane and Dr. Selvig were witnessing what maybe needed to be kind of a private exchange between the brothers. They had issues, after all. Maybe now was the time for them to hash them out.

Darcy glanced over at Jane, only to find her boss-lady already looking toward her.

“Private moment?” Jane asked on a whisper.

“Private moment,” Darcy agreed, nodding. They both quietly got up and Jane gestured for Dr. Selvig to follow. The door was just closing as they walked inside the gas station when they heard Loki yelling.

“You were saying about him being so wonderful?” Jane’s colleague said quietly, but with a tone Darcy did not at all like.

Jane answered before she could. “He is. But he’s still a person. He’s still got baggage, you know? And that man out there, his brother, is maybe the one man in this whole Universe who can push all of his buttons all at once. Would you want to be judged by your colleagues if all of a sudden you had to live and work with your ex-wife again? Would you keep your cool at all times, no matter what she said?”

“We don’t know _what_ they were talking about, Jane,” he responded defensively.

“I know what they were talking about,” Darcy said. And she did. In a roundabout way. She wasn’t trying to be vain, but she was ninety-nine percent sure the conversation was about her. That’s just how things seemed to be working out lately. “I know, and I can guarantee that Thor said something thoughtless. And Loki is really tired of his shit. And with any luck, by the time they come in they’ll each be carrying one less piece of baggage, you know? Would that we could all just deal with our shit and then let it go.” After only a brief moment she added, “let’s make sandwiches.”

Darcy headed to the fridge, vaguely aware that she was stressed and eating, but figuring that since she was getting a lot more exercise these days, maybe it would be okay.

She pulled out the bread, the mayo and mustard, what cheese and meat there was and some leafy greens to add a sense of health and wellness to this late night snack. “Anyone else want toasted bread?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. Selvig was looking sheepish, his hands deep in his pockets. Jane nodded and added a thanks. The Norwegian astrophysicist just walked slowly over to Darcy.

“I’m... sorry. About what I said. It’s true that I don’t know him at all, except for very old stories that paint the picture of a very different kind of man. I apologize for being rude about your husband.”

At no point did Selvig actually meet her eye, but that wasn’t necessary. Apologies sucked, and were hard.

“Apology accepted, Doc. Now, you want a sandwich or what?”

He smiled and met her eye. “Yes, please. And toasted, if you don’t mind, Your Highness.”

Darcy snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t start. That shit still weirds me out.”

In no time at all they were sitting around the table and Jane was telling Darcy about her different protocols for using her trunk and Darcy was just soaking it all in, munching on the sandwich she’d cut into quarters.

“Jane, that’s brilliant. I was wondering how to make it work. I mean, it’s an awesome gift, but at the same time it has been weirdly cumbersome to use. I mean, I felt like I should be organizing everything that goes in, you know? But then that’s kind of high maintenance.”

“No, no, no. You’ve got to treat your secondary bag like a search engine. You let the trunk do the sorting and cataloguing when you put an item in the secondary bag, right? And then you just have to remember, at least in a vague way, what’s in there. And so there might be some things you don’t actually want to keep in the trunk, unless your travelling. Because you want to be able to see them. Like all your clothes, and maybe your books and music. And definitely not your cell phone. I think I got a text days after you sent it because there’s no signal in there and I didn’t bother to check it regularly. Also I missed a call from my Dean, but I’m less worried about that. I’ll call him back on Monday. Anyway, I need to let him know I’m resigning at the end of the term, and returning the money of the two grants. But don’t worry about your paperwork or anything. Actually, let’s get it out of the way on Monday, too, and I’ll submit it early as work finished early.”

“Yeah, but did I really finish the work early?” Darcy asked.

“Oh, Darcy. You did in spades. The moment you introduced me to Loki, and promised that he would be around for a while, you completed all of your required work. Congratulations. You’ve completed all of your requirements for graduation. And I’m pleased now to call you friend and colleague.” Jane wiped off her right hand and held it out to be shaken.

Darcy clasped hands and the shook over the table. “Thanks, Jane. Happy to be friends and colleagues for the next several thousand years. Should be fun.”

Jane snorted and rolled her eyes. “Anyway. You gonna to walk? I want an invite to your graduation if you do. I won’t be an adjunct by then.”

Darcy rolled her eyes as well. “Ugh. But that will be next May. I don’t know. Probably not. I mean, I’ve got the piece of paper. It’s not like any of my friends will be graduating then. They’re all done and gone.” She shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t go to my undergrad graduation, but then I was already accepted into my master’s program. I went to that graduation, though. And the doctoral one. Because why miss out on getting a seriously funny hat and velvety stripes on your graduation gown? And the hood! Love it. Seriously. Love it. Love it weirdly. I’d wear it around more often, but then I’d feel like Harry Potter.”

“We could totally make the Institute look like Hogwarts,” Darcy pointed out in between bites.

“But you should go. To your graduation,” Jane said, returning to the topic.

“I agree, if you care to know my opinion,” Dr. Selvig added. “I mean, your life, it’s not going to require further degrees. And it sounds like you’ll be far too busy doing any number of other things than to obtain further degrees.”

“Meh. I’ll think about it. I’ll need to get Loki’s opinion. Security, you know.”

“Get my opinion on what?” Loki asked, pulling open the door and allowing his brother through first.

“Food? Are we eating?” Thor asked.

Jane held out her plate. “You can have the rest of mine, big guy.”

Darcy held out her hand to her husband. “Whether or not I should attend my graduation ceremony in May. It’ll be a crush of people, and all of my friends have already graduated. It’ll be a security nightmare, I’m sure, and we may be out by then, so there will be that to deal with.”

Loki took her hand in both of his and stood close to her. Then he let go with one hand and swiped a triangle of her sandwich, leaving only one left. After a few moments of thoughtful chewing, he responded. “So it’s a huge group of people, all participating in a, what, coming of age ritual? Sounds like fun. You know I like crowds. And you’ll have a bodyguard by then. Possibly more than one. And rituals are important. Is it brief?”

“Yeah, no. It’s really not brief. But there will be food afterwards. And family is usually invited to witness. So, you know, you’d have to deal with my mother again. But she’ll be stupid happy for me, so no worries there.” Darcy noticed him eyeing the last bit of her sandwich. “Oh, just take it,” she said, holding up the plate for him, just slightly.

Loki murmured his thanks and wolfed it down. “Thor and I have decided to cease our training today and he has suggested I do my standard training with knives, as he has not seen that in some time. Can I persuade you to join us once more? We’ve both agreed to mind our manners.” A smile curled his lips and if they’d been alone Darcy would have tackled him to the ground and insist he do dirty, dirty things with those lips. Dirty, and _wonderful._ As it was, she would happily follow him outside and discretely pant with lust while he went through his knife routine. Not a problem.

Loki laughed and it was his lovely, joyful, infectious laugh once more. “Excellent,” he remarked, and stepped back to pull her up by the hand.

“Oh boy. Here we go again. They’re doing that mental telepathy thing again,” Jane remarked to Selvig and Thor both as she got up.

“Loki? Thou canst do such a thing? I had no idea!” Thor exclaimed as they all made their way back outside.

Loki snorted and then laughed, walking Darcy to her seat. “Just because I’ve never mastered healing doesn’t mean I’m a completely useless sorcerer, you oaf.”

“Yes, yes. Thou hast mastered four areas of sorcery. Thy mastery is exceeding grand. And so on, and so forth. All hail Loki the Magnificent, who can’t even set a broken arm properly.”

“I was barely three centuries old, you nincompoop, and you could not have done a better job of it then, either.”

“Aye, but I had not received the benefit of two centuries of magical training by that point. Which is, I should say, the salient point of this argument. Thou art not the only one who canst be rational, I'll thank thee to remember.”

Loki snorted as he walked into the ring, tossing back over his shoulder, “Just because you _sound_ rational doesn’t meant you _are_ rational.” His voice had a rather sing-song quality to it that made Darcy grin.

And then the grin faded. Sometimes, really, she wondered how she ever paid attention to anything else when Loki was in the room. He was just that breathtakingly beautiful. Fully clothed, blessedly naked, states in between, blue - Loki of Asgard was in every way Darcy’s ideal of male perfection, except that he wasn’t on the cover of a magazine. Well, yet.

She could see his smile as he stood in profile flinging knives at targets, and then moving targets.

“Come now!” Thor bellowed two seats away. “Do it blindfolded and perhaps I’ll be impressed!”

Loki barked out one sharp note of laughter. The knives disappeared and a dark colored sash laid across his hands. He quickly tied it on and turned toward them. He put his fists on his hips.

“Does this satisfy you, then? I had no wish to show off, only to train!”

This was a kind of show off Darcy realized she could deal with very well, very well indeed. And she might have actually started to drool. Her lady garden was ready for a blindfolded Loki, that was for sure.

“Your word that you can see nothing at all?” Thor called out loudly and happily.

“My word. Nothing at all. Am I allowed to continue now, or shall I do this only with my teeth?” Loki called back.

Thor only laughed and so after a moment Loki turned to the side again. His knives were in his hands and the targets began to move. He paused again, not looking straight at them, and then proceeded to hit them all at the same quick pace as he did when he could see them clearly.

Darcy realized her mouth was gaping slightly. And oh, dear _God_ she wanted that man blindfolded and between her legs. Like, now.

“But can you do it with both hands at the same time?” Thor called out, chuckling and clapping.

“Yes. Will your next request be that I do it on my head with my back turned? Because you know I always end up pulling a muscle, and I’d rather not tonight.” Even while he was speaking, he began throwing daggers with each hand, one after the other, one after the other, and then both at the same time. He alternated again, with the other hand leading.

It wasn’t at all conscious but when Darcy clenched her kegels she could seriously almost feel him inside of her, filling her up, cool, blue, and ridged. She clenched her muscles again and again on nothing at all but _she could practically feel him._ Her mouth watered for his skin, the place on his neck that made him boneless. She imagined him talking dirty to her, and that’s when he switched to the battle daggers.

At which point she wondered, could he possibly do all of that jumping and twirling and gorgeousness if she were attached, you know, at the hip and holding on for the ride? No, probably not. With a smile she realized she’d just need to keep that in the realm of fantasy. And what a fantasy it was…

 _‘Darcy, I beg you, stop that. We have an audience and I’m near to breaking.’_ His voice was full of panting desire and Darcy’s first thought was that they needed to have sex _right the hell now._

Then she processed what he had actually _said._ Her face flushed with embarrassment immediately. “Sorry!” she whispered, without thinking.

“Wherefore do you apologize, my lady?” Thor asked across Jane, who sat between them.

“Trust me,” Jane said, answering for the totally embarrassed chick at the end of the picnic bench. “We absolutely do not want to know. Just... trust me. And when he’s all done with the, you know, training thing, if you don’t want your eyes bleeding out of your head, you’ll beat a hasty retreat.”

No one spoke after that and Darcy tried to just appreciate Loki’s form. Without thoughts of sex. Which was difficult, as she was staring at Loki and happened to be really, really aroused.

Still. He was exceptionally graceful. And he always knew where the targets were. Was that magic? Was it because it was his magic? Was he just using the force?

The tattoos rippled and stretched, dark swaths across the pale blue tint of his otherwise white skin in the dim blue light that he had changed color just for her.

And how could he do those maneuvers in such tight leather pants, come to think of it? And why did that thought only dawn on her now? Granted, the leather pants she had were amazingly supple, almost to a stretchy point. Hmm…

She watched him, falling almost into a mesmeric trance, spinning, jumping, reaching, twirling, rolling, flipping, never missing a single target, never allowing a target to strike him. When he stopped she was almost surprised, jolted from her daze. She shivered, though she wasn’t cold, and reflexively clenched her kegels. God, she could feel him again, almost for real.

He threw his head back, blindfold still on and turned slightly to face his audience.

Vaguely Darcy was aware that Jane and Dr. Selvig were standing up. Jane was saying something to Thor? Maybe?

She licked her lips and then his voice was rolling down her spine, in her head but so close and soft he might have been speaking an inch from her ear.

_‘Now, Darcy. Tease me no longer. I must be in you. I must have you immediately.’_

Darcy popped up from her seat just as Thor started heading over.

No. No. This was not time for man talk. This was not private brother bonding time. It was time to hustle, so she kicked her nonchalant, I’m-not-desperate-for-sex-or-anything walk up to a trot.

_‘Come to me, Darcy. I must feel your luscious, silken depths crush against me in ecstasy. It has been an odd evening and I wish only to lose myself in your sweetness and hear you scream my name.’_

He had been striding determinedly towards her and she was almost there. It didn’t help that he’d stopped his training form at the far end of the glowing circle.

_‘Don’t you wish to ride me, Darcy? Do you not wish to sink me deep inside of yourself, to palm your breasts as you scream yourself hoarse? Am I alone in this desire?’_

She groaned as she met him, wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up to meet the inevitable kiss, knowing that with this amount of goading, he wouldn’t mind such a display of affection in front of his brother. Darcy controlled her urge to yip in surprise when she felt Loki lean in, swiftly grab both of her thighs just below her ass and pull her up, effectively wrapping her legs around his waist.

 _Guess he really didn’t mind,_ was the instantaneous thought that flashed across her brain.

But by then Loki had shifted his hands to her ass and pulled her in tightly. Even through her jeans and his leather pants she could feel that he was hard and ready. And really, that worked out because she’d just had thirty minutes or so of really effective visual foreplay, and she was so ready for phase two.

The edge of the sash blinding her husband brushed her wrist as it hung behind him. Darcy whimpered and wriggled against him. In response Loki growled as only he could when his throat was more Jotunn than Aesir, and they disapparated directly to the bedroom of their suite in Dallas.

They fell onto the made bed with groans. Darcy’s clothes disappeared, but she knew they’d be in a pile on the chair in the corner, which is where she’d been requesting they go whenever a moment like this occurred. Her hand was at his pants before he could lose them into his interdimensional storage unit.

“Wait,” she said, her voice low and breathy. “Roll over. You promised.”

Blindfold still on, Loki rolled them on the bed and inched up until he was more centered. Darcy unlaced his pants and carefully pulled his cock free and pumped it with her fist. Her mouth descended and Loki hissed and then groaned loudly, his normal tenor now a Jotunn bass.

Pulling her mouth free she asked, “And why aren’t you blue?”

A sudden chill was beneath her hands and the ridges on his cock raised themselves.

She looked him over and grinned. Black hair, blue skin, black blindfold, blue ridges, black leather pants, blue cock. Darcy crawled up his body and sunk down on him, feeling the icy chill penetrate her core and send a thrill up her spine.

“Oh, thank _God._ ** _Finally._** Do you have _any_ idea what watching you train does to me?”

His chuckle was dark and low and gravelly. After a moment he asked, “So tell me, my darling.” He groaned as she rocked on him. “As you’ve said you would. How do I _rate_ now that you’ve seen my brother?”

“You mean it’s not obvious?”

“Humor me.”

Darcy paused. “Really? Now?”

Loki’s hands flew to her hips and he held her as he bowed his body and thrust up into her. She cried out reflexively. “Now,” he grated out.

Darcy put her hand on his chest. “Then stop that. I have to word. With words.” She took a deep breath. “And I have to be able to see your eyes.”

Regretfully, she pushed the blindfold up, over his adorably sensitive red eyes and off his head. She bent at the waist and placed her hands above his shoulders.

“On a scale of one to ten, with one being ‘meh’, ten being ‘improbably, fantastically beautiful’, nine being ‘heartbreakingly handsome’, and eight being ‘smoking hot’, I’d say your brother is an Eight. He’s smoking hot,” Darcy said in a matter-of-fact voice. “He’s probably the most beautiful blond I’ve ever seen. I wish him well with Jane and hope he’s good in bed, because I think she could use all the orgasms she can get.”

Loki snorted but said nothing.

“And you, just to be clear, on that same scale, one to ten, blah, blah, blah, are an Eleven.”

Loki narrowed his gaze on her, but Darcy continued, undaunted.

“Which means that words fail me. Loki, I don’t have words for how beautiful your body is, for how... noble your heart is, for the depth of your love or the staggering scope of your abilities. I... don’t have words for how devastatingly attractive I find you, how you make me feel, for how amazing our sex life is, for what I feel like, knowing that you look at me and see someone of value.”

“Immense value,” he added. “ _Untold_ value.”

Darcy smiled. She liked hearing it, even if she still didn’t totally believe it. But she was starting to understand that _Loki_ believed it. And that was enough for now. “Thor may be an Eight, but he can’t give me any of that. Not even when he’s got his act together. All of this is you. It’s just you. Only you.”

Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes he was smiling. Darcy was so momentarily overwhelmed by his beauty that she shivered. _His beauty_ was the way she thought of it because that’s as far as she could consciously get, but even so she knew there was something deeper, something lovelier, something so much more important than facial features and musculature, and at the moment red eyes, sharp teeth, blue skin, and clan lines.

“And now shall we return to our previous activities which I so rudely interrupted with my interrogation?” he asked, the cloudy skies of his former mood now gone.

Darcy smiled in agreement and he pulled her hips hard toward his even as he arched himself up into her. She groaned as the world devolved into pure sensation. She rocked and swirled her hips and was rewarded with a deep, bone melting groan from him.

They continued, rocking and pulling and swirling and clenching, finding solace and hope in the beautiful connection of their bodies, the one of many ways they could express their love and devotion to each other, until they each reached their peak, she first, crying his name, and he moments after, shaking and growling, emptied and laid bare.

Darcy collapsed on top of Loki and in the moments that followed her overheated skin was refreshingly chilled by his frosty body. The pleasure of the temperature differential was always quick to evaporate as she cooled, but for the brief moment they enjoyed the boneless, flopped cuddling, he still softening within her, deep breaths the only slight sound in the perfectly quiet suite.

Darcy’s brain recovered a bit faster which is why the moment she heard it, an entirely wrong kind of noise, she realized what it was and nearly screamed, ‘ **_Stop time!_ ** ’ in her head.

It was the singular noise of a pull-cord lamp turning on - _rhrr-rhrr-rhrr-click, rhrr-rhrr-rhrr -_ out in the sitting room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Tell me everything. I'm a Leo and I will admit that my mane needs to be stroked now and then.


	11. Wherein HYDRA collectively vomits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fascinating conversation ensues that is longer than any participant planned, and another somewhat surprising but arguably predictable event occurs. The personal paranoia of many reach DEFCON 1. But then, it’s not paranoia if they’re really after you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry about the delay in the chapter. There was some health stuff, and then there was some work stuff, and then there was the finishing of the theology manuscript for which I'm actually seeking traditional publication. (Much more readable than the one I posted here, because, you know, I was going for intentionally obtuse with that one.)
> 
> Anywhoozle, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Nick Fury had been waiting longer than he planned, but not longer that he was willing. This sort of thing was to be expected when you didn’t make an appointment.

That his target had teleported directly into the bedroom - door open, and thank you so much for that - and proceeded to have an intense and extremely vocal session with his wife was not part of any plan, in any form, and next time Fury would make an appointment.

The climax was clear and obvious and afterwards Fury counted slowly to thirty, then turned on the light. He blinked twice, and by the second time something stranger than any previous moment in his life occurred.

Mischief and Princess stood before him, fully clothed and arm in arm. And all of his weapons - all of them, including the ring and the watch - were laid in a neat row on the coffee table in front of him.

“I would welcome you to our temporary home, but you seem to have made yourself more than welcome quite on your own, Director Fury. Shall I congratulate you for being so very covert?”

Fury stood up and offered his hand in greeting to the Crown Prince who he was beginning to like, despite himself. It was a shame. Somehow Fury had been looking forward to hating him. Perhaps because the Universe was apparently just _full_ of white men with privilege dripping off of them, and that was nothing if not deeply annoying.

“Please do sit and make yourself comfortable once more,” the white alien - and why did he have to be _white?_ \- said, all politeness. “You, of course, know us, and I have already introduced my wife to you, so shall we get straight to the matter?”

Fury nodded once. “I’m here to offer you an opportunity to do some significant good for this planet, which seems to be what you want to do.”

“Really?” he asked, all pleased astonishment. “Do tell me more.”

“May we speak privately, Your Highness?” Really, the girl was completely superfluous.

“Do call me Loki. And, no, I’m afraid not. I rely on my wife’s insight, you see. I would not even consider holding such a meeting without her.”

He didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his call.

Fury didn’t have to glance at her. He could see her out of his peripheral vision, and her face was completely neutral. Well, perhaps she wouldn’t be a nuisance, at least.

He nodded. “SHIELD is assembling a loose group of superheroes, and I’d like you to join their number.”

“What a charming offer. And what would you have me do?”

“Well, Loki, that largely depends on what you tell me next. There is much we do not know about you, and we would like to know as much as possible.”

“I shall tell you, since you ask, with one caveat, of course.”

“And that is?” There had to be something.

“That all of what I am going to say, and all of what you are going to think concerning it, you kindly refrain from writing down in any medium at all. Your mole organization, you see, has access to all you have written, despite the measures you use for security.”

Fury’s stomach bottomed out, which frankly hadn’t happened in years. He kept his face schooled as his brain absorbed the words and the implications.

“Oh?” he asked, calmly. More information. He knew what he thought, but he wanted - no, needed -  more information.

“Yes. They have quaintly named themselves ‘Hydra’, but perhaps you already know this?”

“The better question is how do you know this?”

“You have been observing me for the past several weeks. I have been observing you for the past several decades. Recently I discovered quite a disturbing plot of Hydra’s - mass murder, very controlling, quite unpleasant, so I will admit that I began meddling sooner rather than later. I have no doubt that they have some nasty tricks up their sleeves just waiting to be used, but _that_ project at least, is several months away from even partial functionality. But yes. Hydra is at every level of your leadership.”

“Is that why you came here?” Fury asked, scrambling to put all of the puzzle pieces together.

“I admit, it was one of the reasons. I very much looked forward to meeting you, but thought it best not to approach you directly. You seem not to enjoy such things.”

Fury raised an eyebrow. “No. I don’t.”

“May I be so bold as to ask how much of Hydra you have uncovered? I do not, of course, see everything.”

“Every Saturday. You’re the one.”

“I am, yes.”

“How?”

“I am the Master of Lies and Chaos, Director. Secrets are just lies that one tells by omission. And so your entire organization is, I will admit, quite transparent to me, when I bother to look. But truly, I should tell you, on the off chance that you haven’t discovered it or guessed it for yourself, that that quaintly named organization has a protocol - I think that’s the word I want - to somehow bring down all of SHIELD. I know not the details, but I imagine they are not far from putting it into play. If I were them, I would.”

Fury couldn’t remain seated any longer. He got up and began pacing across the room, back and forth.

“It seems, Your Highnesses, that you hold all the cards. What do you want?”

He glanced over to see a smile on Loki that seemed warm and friendly. “That depends entirely on you. What do you need? Perhaps we can be mutually useful to one another. And lest you feel the power is too much on my side, I shall reveal to you a secret or two of my own. Provided you never write them down.”

Fury raised an eyebrow, then clasped his hands behind his back while he paced.

“What do I need? First and foremost, as much help and as soon as possible, concerning HYDRA.”

“Next?” prompted the prince.

“As it is very likely that SHIELD will change and downsize, I would like you to provide headquartering space for some of our divisions, some of our people, and some of our equipment.”

“And?” Loki said, face neutral and pleasant. Fury really couldn’t tell what he would say, either way.

“In all likelihood you’ll need quite a bit of staff for your Embassy and Institute. I would be grateful if you would consider hiring my former employees. My agents are used to upheaval, but our support staff - this will be very difficult for them. They are trained to basic combat and complete discretion, and there is a wide variety for you to chose from, if you’re willing.”

“And?”

“I would very much like to know the extent of your capabilities.”

Loki laughed. Fury watched as Princess got up, and walked over to the phone. She ordered from room service; a pot of tea, a pot of coffee, three cups, and a plate of ten assorted sandwiches, with potato chips.

“Well. I shall say now that I will happily give all the help I can, this evening, to your endeavors with HYDRA. I will provide what space you require. And my wife and I, and Jane Foster shall consider first former SHIELD employees when hiring staff. And I shall indeed tell you the extent of my capabilities. These details can come in but a moment. But first, my requests. There is no order. They are all of equal importance to me.”

Fury stopped pacing, but he couldn’t sit down. Instead he stood behind his chair. He wouldn’t be comfortable until room service came and left and he got a feel for the attendant and searched the cart.

“I should like to have my pick of your best agents to be a bodyguard and assistant to my wife, one to Jane Foster, and one for myself. There will be other security soon, but your impromptu visit has been very illuminating to me, as you might have imagined by now. I should also like to choose our head of security from your agents, and would appreciate your recommendations.”

Fury nodded. That would be easily done, and easily entwined with other, current plans. When he looked up, he also noticed that all sound around him had stopped. But the lights were still on. It was now deafeningly quiet in the Royal’s suite.

“I should like to regain possession of the Tesseract.”

Fury controlled his features as well as, he imagined, Mischief did the flow of time. “Why?”

“I shall give you three reasons. First, it was never yours. My father, Odin, placed it on your planet for safe keeping. And it was quite safe, quite harmless, until it was unearthed in the past century, once during World War II, and then just after the war. Quite before poor Captain Rogers. How is he, by the way? Adjusting well, I hope?”

Fury allowed himself a slow blink.

“Second, it is sentient. And from what I know of it, it quite prefers to be quiet, rather than to be meddled with. It will take it only just so long before something quite interesting occurs. Well, _I_ would call it interesting. But then, I can also evacuate this planet if need be. But my wife has friends here. Loved ones. I would just as soon refrain from consigning them to a fiery and horrific death, thank you.”

Fury blinked again, quite slowly.

“Third, there is another rather ominous and powerful personage who wishes it to be found for nefarious reasons of his or her own. It is he who has been enticing you to toss your better judgement out the nearest casement and experiment on the thing. I plainly admit that I do not know who it is, what he looks like, and indeed not even one ounce of his or her true motives. But I have concerned myself with the problem and I will get to the bottom of it, as you say.”

“And what would _you_ do with it? Do you expect me to believe that _you_ wouldn’t use it?”

“My dear, Nicholas. Tis an ancient relic that we put here _for safekeeping._ Away from other objects of a similar sort and away from those who would use it for dishonorable reasons. My motive is exactly identical to that of my father’s, lo these many centuries ago: safekeeping. Truly, I wish to drop it back into the ocean. It was quite a good place for it, really. And this time, I shall drop it in the deepest, darkest, most inaccessible bit of the ocean. You’re more than welcome to come and see the deed done. The purpose of such a locale, in case you were curious, is that this meddler of ours, he prefers the subtle route, to work by proxy, if you will. And taking the subtle route, this hiding place will take him some time to negate. And that will, I hope, give me enough time to find him out, find his weakness, and remove him from the gameboard. I have a great hope that it can be done within a year, but if it takes me a hundred or a thousand, I will do it, and that is one of many promises I am willing to give to you, the keeper of the security of this realm.”

Fury was pacing again. Time still wasn’t going anywhere.

“Those are my reasons three. You have undoubtedly noticed by now that this portion of our conversation comes with a portion of the finest security I can provide. If you would be so kind as to refrain from writing, speaking, or indeed thinking about this topic at all when time is in motion and we with it, I would be grateful.

“Having so said, now let me think. Darling, what else had we discussed?” A moment of silent communication and his host was back with him. “Construction crews. Yes. If you’ve got any you can spare, we’ll be happy to pay them the going rate and write them a glowing recommendation following completion. And that, I believe, is all.”

Nick Fury stared at the God of Mischief. And Lies. And Chaos.

Fifteen minutes ago, Director Fury had no idea that his eighth contingency plan would be the one to use, at least in some form.

Fifteen minutes ago, Director Fury had an organization he fully expected to face the next seventy-five years with the same strength as the previous seventy-five.

Fifteen minutes ago, _HYDRA hadn’t been alive and kicking._

Fury quietly stood behind his chair letting the change begin to seep into his bones.

* * *

“When will Agent 4 be in place?” Pierce asked.

“He should be there already. The other eleven have already reported in, missions accomplished. The prince was the long-shot, the twelfth on the list, but better safe than sorry. And since SHIELD isn’t sure how powerful he actually is, well, better safe than sorry.”

“Don’t you think this is a little like using a nuclear weapon to swat a fly?” Pierce asked the scientist.

“Statistically speaking, no sir. And while he could be recruitable, it’s the mischief angle that gives the algorithm pause. So to speak. And if he decided he didn’t like us, or was just neutral, this kind of thing is right up his alley, even just from the mischief angle.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Pierce echoed, his voice just this side of mocking.

“Yes, sir. The details are all in this file, sir. A bit outside of the norm for Agent 4, but nothing our programmers couldn’t handle,” the man said, handing over a tablet with a file already open on it.

Pierce scanned it, his finger flicking, moving the screen onto the next, and the next. He paused and flicked the opposite way.

“Interesting protocol. The algorithm recommended this?”

“Yes, sir. Well, he needs to blend in, he can’t just hide in shadows. And of course, this order of operations is intended to blind the prince with grief and rage, throwing him off whatever natural abilities he has.”

“Or honing them,” Pierce pointed out dryly.

“The algorithm doesn’t think that is likely.”

“The algorithm doesn’t know everything about this guy. Neither do we.”

“Well, sir, that’s why we sent in Agent 4. And in another hour he’ll be history, and no one will ever know what his natural abilities were or weren’t.”

“Inform me when it’s done,” Pierce said, handing the tablet back and walking away.

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

It had taken Fury and Loki five hours to go through the entire SHIELD staff on Fury’s phone, for Loki to identify each and every Hydra agent to the Director, and to afflict all however many there were of them with a fever and vomiting, which would probably keep most of them in bed the next day. They anticipated it would give SHIELD at least another 12 hours to work with.

Darcy did a lot of reading in five hours. In fact, she had finished the speed reading and note taking for her paper and started in on her outline. And she ordered more coffee, tea, and sandwiches from room service. She got fries on the side, this time.

And the moment they were done, Fury stood up to leave. Darcy was vaguely aware that Loki walked him to the door, but really at this point she was in all-nighter mode and focused, like, woah. The fries helped. When the door shut behind the Man in Black, Darcy saw a green flash out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and watched her husband stride to the two windows and do _something_ to them.

Then Loki was before her, his hand extended down. When she looked up and looked into his eyes for the first time since the last round of food arrived, she was so shocked her mouth gaped open. He looked _terrible._

There were dark circles around his eyes and his skin looked pale and waxy. His hand was trembling, the one he extended to her.

 _“Take me to the bifrost rune, Darcy. We must not delay,”_ he said, his voice in her head strong and clear, and no match for the shape his body was currently in.

She grabbed his hand and stood up, careful not to actually pull on him. It took her a moment to clear her mind and focus on that part of the desert, to hone in on that one funky rock formation, but she did it and in another breath they were there.

Darcy’s ears popped, and she shivered at the cold. Loki immediately began speaking aloud, while looking up.

“Heimdal, I urgently require an audience with the All-Mother. Please inform her with all due haste. Thank you.”

He turned back to Darcy. “Our cellular phones do not work out here, is that correct? There is no signal?”

Darcy nodded silently, wondering what was going on, and if her husband was going to fall over from exhaustion before his mother got back to him. Also, why they were in the middle of the desert-the cold desert-at, like, three in the morning. Or was it four?

“No matter,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I think I’ll lie down,” he said, just before he sort of collapsed to his knees and then totally faceplanted into the desert floor.

Darcy’s scream was a half-stunted thing, not a full-fledged scream at all. She was by his side and rolling him over to his back without thinking, cradling his head on her lap and brushing his face off.

“I’m fine,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open and then closed again. “Don’t fret,” he said, uselessly. “Just didn’t want to stand anymore.”

“What the hell is going on?” Darcy asked on a harsh whisper.

“Arranging for security before I go to sleep. Possibly for days. Need to reschedule with your professor, dear.”

Darcy’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Why do you need to sleep for days?”

“Not a very good healer,” he mumbled, slurring his words.

“What does that have to do with anything? So what if you’re not a good healer? _Oh my god are you dying?”_

Loki laughed.

Darcy smacked his chest.

“Don’t you laugh at me, you insane asshole! I love you, goddammit and you are not _dying on me in the first month of our marriage! Now what the_ **_hell_ ** _is going on?”_

She might have been yelling, it was true, but the situation merited it. And they were in the middle of nowhere.

“Healers can curse, too. I can only do one. But it was the best way.” He was back to mumbling. Apparently his laugh could be full-bodied, but his words could only be mumbly. A very analytical part of Darcy found that odd.

“So... wait. You cursed Hydra?”

“The agents. All of their agents.”

Realization was beginning to dawn on Darcy. “And, how many of these curses could you reasonably do without exhausting yourself?”

“Fifteen hundred, give or take.”

“And how many did you _actually_ do?” Darcy asked, her voice the voice of foreboding.

“Two thousand forty-five,” he said in a dreamy tone.

“ _Loki!”_

She screamed again, a much better attempt that was swallowed up by the nothingness of the desert around them.

“ _I am so pissed at you! Why would you do this to yourself?!”_

“To save many lives,” he whispered, and that cut her short.

And then she was crying over him, lying there with his eyes closed, breathing shallow, looking nearly dead, because this was just like that scenario in her head where he goes out and gets himself killed to save a lot of other people, and she’s left with a broken used-to-be-Loki body that she gets to bury.

And that’s how Frigga found her.

* * *

She walked the illusion, not sure what she would find at the other end of her son’s urgent request, but it was not, to be sure, the sight of her daughter grieving over his body as if he were dead. Which, upon closer inspection, Frigga was sure he was not.

It did, however, look like he had done something quite interesting. Frigga wondered what sort of magics it was, though now was clearly not the time to indulge her curiosity.

“Darcy,” she called out gently, unable to bend down and comfort the girl as she wished. She called a few more times before she had her daughter’s attention.

The girl finally looked up, blinking blearily and sniffing.

“Hi,” Darcy said.

“Can you wake him?” she asked.

Frigga watched as the young girl shook her son and called to him. He sighed deeply and moaned slightly, but did not wake.

“I do not wish to put undue pressure upon you my dear, but do you know what he had in mind?” It was unlikely, but possible, given what Loki had said about his relationship with the girl.

Frigga was surprised when Darcy nodded her assent. She took a deep breath before she began to speak.

“He wanted to arrange security for us. I think he meant for you to get those people we talked about, Borghild and the rest, to us as soon as possible. But he wanted something else, too. Earlier today he told Thor he would get his weapons and armor for him, so he could train properly. But I think that for tonight, I don’t even know if this is possible, but I think for tonight he wants you to remove the thing that restrains Thor. I don’t know for certain, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he wanted.”

“I see,” said Frigga. She hesitated for but a moment. As concerned Thor, she trusted Loki implicitly. As concerned Darcy, she trusted Loki’s choice in wife. “It shall be done as you say, my dear. Now, go fetch Thor, and some water for Loki, should he awake. I shall return in all due haste.”

She ended the illusion and shifted to the corridor outside of Thor’s chambers. She removed the locking rune from the door and strode inside, Gungnir still in hand. His ceremonial armor was on one stand and his daily armor on another. She put the latter into storage and went in search of his weapons stand. It was in a closet. She would have thought he would keep it out in plain sight, but she put it from her mind. Frigga put the entire thing in storage and then shifted to the kitchens. Her order was filled quickly and she put the baskets, cases and flasks all in her storage and set her mind to the Observatory, and stood before the watchman in the next beat of her heart.

* * *

Darcy had a brief moment of wishing that she had one of those secondary bags on her that Jane had been talking about, but whatever. She could deal with her trunk later. In the meantime she shucked her sweatshirt, folded it, shifted her legs out from under Loki’s head and gently lowered his head onto the makeshift pillow.

“Oh my god,” she muttered more to herself than him, “I can’t believe I’m just leaving you here.” She crawled around so that she was next to him, and kneeled by his side. “Loki?” she called, gently. When he didn’t respond at all, she continued. “If you can hear me, I’m just going to be gone for a moment. I’m going to go get Thor, because I’m pretty sure that’s what you wanted, but if you didn’t, I’m not getting him because I have the hots for him, I swear. I just don’t want an assassin to get the both of us while you’re asleep and before Borghild arrives. And you did say that there was no one you’d rather have at your back, when he’s at full strength. Well, baby, you got your wish.”

Darcy kissed him softly on the lips and sat back. She wiped her tears with the heels of her hands and sniffed a few times, wishing she had a tissue.

She got up and was about apparate when she realized that she was a bundle of nerves and might not actually make sense if she tried to explain herself. A few deep breaths later and she felt more collected, and so decided to apparate into the kitchen directly. It was three in the morning, after all. Or, maybe four.

And it was dark in the kitchen. Which she really should have thought about.

“Lights,” she muttered, as she walked toward the switch. She didn’t get far, though.

“ _What the hell?!”_ someone yelled from behind her, in the dark. Dr. Selvig, her brain supplied, moments later. Before that happened, however, Darcy screamed.

By the time she got to the lights, one hand clasped over her heart, and really, how many of these heart-stopping moments was she going to have today, anyway, Thor’s door was opening. He wore the same sort of linen pajama bottoms that Loki had, and not much else, not that Darcy was in any state to notice, really.

“Oh good,” she said, addressing Thor, who now looked less intent and more confused. “You’re up. Get dressed and bring enough reading material for… um, four days. We need your help.”

“Of course, my lady. I will be but a moment.”

Darcy barely paid attention, however. She whipped out her phone and sent a text to Jane.

_‘Shit got real. Borrowing Thor. May be days. More later.’_

She sent it and then turned around to see Erik Selvig sitting at the kitchen table in his pajamas with a mug of something in front of him.

“Hey,” she said in greeting. And then decided to add, “Sorry about that.”

“What’s going on?” the elder scientist asked, calmer than when the poor guy thought he was alone in the dark drinking… warm milk? It looked like warm milk.

Warm milk seemed like such a nice idea just then.

“Um, stuff. It’s a long story. But I need to get back as soon as possible.”

Darcy couldn’t help it. She began pacing. She grabbed a bottle of water for Loki from the fridge while she was at it.

And then Jane joined the party. Also in her pajamas.

“Darcy, what’s going on?” She was a bit bleary-eyed, but Darcy couldn’t blame her.

“Um, stuff. Uh, long story short, Loki is magically exhausted, he looks like he’s mostly dead, and I left him unconscious in the desert because Frigga told me to come get Thor.”

Jane took a moment to process that. A moment in which Thor did not appear. How long did it take to put some clothes on, for heaven’s sake?

“Where in the desert?” she asked, finally.

“The bifrost rune,” Darcy replied.

Jane nodded. “Then go. Don’t wait for Thor. I’ll bring him in two minutes. Go back to Loki.”

Darcy tackle-hugged Jane. “ _Oh-my-god-thank-you-so-much!”_ And then she turned around and disapparated.

* * *

“I do this at the behest of Princess Darcy, as she believes it to be the will of the Crown Prince. You are charged with their protection until such time as the Bearer of Gungnir, or the Crown Prince does release you from it. Do you understand this, Thor, the Banished?”

Jane watched as Thor looked into his mother’s eyes and agreed to her terms. Damn, this was seriously tough love. She quietly shifted over to where Darcy was standing, next to Loki who was still laid out as well as out cold, with her open trunk at her feet. She put her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders and leaned toward her ear.

“Hey. You doing okay?” Jane whispered.

Darcy nodded and then shifted so she could whisper back into her ear. “Thanks for bringing Thor. You don’t have to stay, though. I know I woke you up.”

“Nope. I’m coming with you so I know where you guys are. And besides, you don’t have to do this alone. Seriously.”

Jane watched as her friend silently debated. Finally she nodded and turned and gave Jane a far less violent hug than just minutes before. Between sniffles Jane was pretty sure she heard, “Thank you.”

“We’ll get through this, you’ll see. And we’ll laugh about that one time you came over in the middle of the night and borrowed Thor, like he was a lawn mower or something.”

Jane held Darcy and rubbed her back until they realized that Frigga was done with Thor.

Frigga held out her arms to Darcy and Jane watched as Frigga had her turn at comforting her.

“My darling daughter, he will be perfectly well. You shall see, in but a few days. You remember the instructions I gave you concerning food and drink? Yes? Good. I shall walk the illusion and let you know how soon you may expect Borghild. As for the rest of the guards, we shall wait upon Loki to see when he prefers their arrival. There is still a matter, I understand, of housing and feeding them that must be arranged.

“Now,” Frigga said, her tone clearly changing the subject, “I have a matter of some small amount of delicacy to put to you.”

Jane started to back away, but Frigga turned to her.

“No, dear. Stay. This concerns you as well.” She turned back to Darcy, whom she still embraced, loosely. “I noticed before that you bear Loki’s token, his spell to locate you. And you know, I suppose, that he voluntarily wears mine, so that I may locate him. I ask that you both consider accepting mine, as well. I would have asked before, had I known that things would… _progress_ quite so quickly.”

Both women nodded without even the smallest delay. Jane figured that this was the Asgardian equivalent of giving someone your phone number and kind of wondered what the big todo was about, but whatever. They both offered the inside of their left wrists and Frigga, no longer hugging Darcy, gently placed a small little thing just like her trunk token on her arm. The pain, just like last time, was like a big, fat needle being inserted into her arm when it sort of dissolved into a light green tattoo on her skin.

Frigga returned to Darcy and continued speaking quietly to her, presumably about Loki and his health, but Jane was lost in thought.

How could she have been mad at this woman? Just being in her presence again was so incredibly calming. The memory of being mad at her almost felt like it was from a different person, a different lifetime ago.

She shook it off as Frigga was making her farewells, and though the hugs to her and Darcy were easy and natural, everyone got to witness the awkward moment with Thor. There was a pause, way too long, some words in the Asgardian language, and then Frigga opened her arms. Jane looked away to give mother and son some privacy and nudged Darcy to do the same.

“So. You’re coming back with us?” Darcy asked.

Jane nodded. “And it looks like we’ll be finding some additional local housing sooner rather than later.”

Darcy shrugged. “It was going to happen. You know, I was thinking about how soon we could be out in maybe temporary housing on actual Asgardian land out here, but until we get utilities set up, it will be on a scale between _uncomfortable_ and _useless_.”

Jane’s features fell. Because reality sometimes sucked like that. And personally, she couldn’t imagine dealing with the scope of the building project that was now in Darcy’s lap.

“Don’t worry. Seriously. There’s a plan.”

Before Darcy could say any more, there was the disconcertingly bright flash of the bridge between two worlds, and then Frigga wasn’t on Earth anymore. And Jane had, one right after another, the twin responses she had come to recognize as her new normal: First, the deep envy to know _how that worked,_ and then immediately after, the deep satisfaction of knowing _she’d soon find out._

* * *

“No, my lady. I do not take this course of action to be a wise one. I am certain that Loki would approve not at all.”

Darcy sighed. It was six in the morning. _She could not sleep._ She was completely jittery. What she really needed right now was to exhaust herself on an elliptical machine, because the level of stress hormones in her bloodstream could not actually be healthy for a person.

“We cannot even go beyond the door. He has barred the entrance with magic. He would not do such a thing if he did not imagine you to be in imminent peril.”

“I have an idea,” Jane piped up, and Darcy was grateful. “If Darcy wears her cloak and you wear mine, I’ll be the only one anyone sees. And no one wants to kill me, yet. We can go to the gym with no one the wiser. I could use some time on a treadmill.”

Darcy looked over to Thor, a different sight altogether dressed in his armor, weapons strapped to his arms, legs, and waist. And one battle ax on his back.

“Cloak? What cloak is this?” he asked.

Jane explained while Darcy went to change her clothes. When they’d come back from picking up Thor, Darcy and Jane had spent some time catching up before Darcy went into the bedroom and tried to sleep. Jane said she’d had some things to discuss with Thor, and that when Darcy woke up again, they could all have breakfast and then Jane would be on her way, for now. But sleep did not come. She tossed and turned while Loki slept like the dead on his side of the bed. And what she really needed was to work some of this tension off.

When Darcy came back in, after changing her clothes, she heard the tail end of Jane’s argument.

“-the extremely remote possibility that there is an assassin right now waiting for us to leave this room, don’t you think this would be a good opportunity to smoke him out? I mean, to get him to reveal himself? Before he finds a way around Loki’s magic? Assassins, I’ve heard, are remarkably persistent.”

“If there is more than one…” Thor trailed off, his brow furrowed.

“It’s unlikely there’s even one,” Jane countered. “That there could be more than one is an _extremely_ low probability.”

“Any probability is too much,” Thor volleyed in return.

Jane rolled her eyes. “Everything is _possible_ . It’s _possible_ I’ll wake up tomorrow morning hating science and thinking I’m a man. But there is an extremely low probability that will occur, for a variety of reasons I won’t go into right now. Just because it’s _possible_ doesn’t mean it’s _probable.”_

“She’s gonna win this argument, Thor. You may as well conceed now and ask to borrow more books on the subject,” Darcy interjected, bouncing on her heels, not quite able to stand still anymore.

“Books on winning arguments?” asked Thor.

Both women shook their heads. Jane spoke. “Books on Bayesian Probability, and rationality in general. Maybe I’ll start you with Godel, Escher, Bach. Well, maybe not. Feynman. I’ll start you on Feynman and we’ll work our way up from there.”

Thor blinked several times and looked back and forth between them. “I do not like this. But as you insist, we shall wear these cloaks and do as you say. I hope that we may meet no one, for thy sake.”

It took another moment for them to leave. Jane needed to change her shoes, and the cloaks took a moment more, though apparently Jane had already explained how to use them to Thor.

Because Darcy wasn’t quite sure about apparating directly down into the gym, for several reasons, really, she decided to take them right outside their own door. That, at least, she could very clearly remember.

The trip up to the floor with the gym was completely uneventful. They met no one, and the gym itself was virtually empty. There was only one guy in sweats working on the free weights, and while the amount of weight he was pumping was pretty astounding, Darcy was sure Loki could do better. Admittedly, at this point she thought Loki was better than more or less any other guy, but she could see that she was slightly biased.

“He’s cute,” Darcy said quietly to Jane, knowing that the cloak would mask even this, if she was discrete. “Maybe you should go for him. You know, test out your atrophied flirting skills.”

Jane only rolled her eyes, unable to speak in return. All three went over to where the cardio machines were. The whole exercise room was perhaps the size of their suite, if the suite had no walls at all.

“Well, let’s see if the cloak makes me as unnoticeable using this machine as it does me just walking around.”

The weight guy glanced over only once, but didn’t seem to linger or notice anything untoward, like a ghost in a cloak using one of the machines.

Thor, meanwhile, spent most of his time standing just in front of both machines, arms loose by his side, the cloak hood over his head, but with the remaining part of the cloak thrown over his shoulders like a nearly invisible cape. It meant, Darcy well knew, that his arms would be free should he need to use them.

For her part, Darcy just threw herself into the punishing rhythm of her interval workout on a medium-high resistence that she thought she could maintain for at least a little while. At one point she started crying, but waved off Thor and Jane when they both noticed and looked concerned. It was just nervous tension. She just had to get it all out, was the thing.

Fifteen minutes into Darcy’s workout, Cutie-Patootie across the way put down his weights, rolled his shoulders and made a bee-line to Darcy’s own elliptical machine.

Jane, happily, was paying attention and thinking fast. “Oh!” she called out a little too loudly, getting his attention. She smiled at him. “The machine next to me is broken. I tried using it yesterday. I reported it and they said it would be fixed within a week. I don’t know why they haven’t put a sign up. And this is supposed to be a _good_ hotel.” Jane laughed, and Darcy had to hand it to her. That wasn’t a bad one.

Cutie paused in his stride, gave her a pointed and, well, kind of odd look, nodded and then made for the machine on the other side of Darcy.

And come to think of it, Cutie gave off some pretty wacked vibes, now that he was this close.

“Uh, Thor…” was all Darcy had to say, and he was between them.

“Move away, my lady. Remove yourself from this contraption. If anything untoward occurs, I would have both of you return instantly to thy chambers.”

Darcy hit the stop button and got off the machine. So much for getting rid of stress hormones. Across the room she collected herself as the Creepy Cutie was using the identical machine to the one she was on, minding his own business.

“Okay. He’s probably just a weird businessman and not an assassin, but just for the record, Thor, you’re not allowed to kill anyone, all assassins are to be brought back alive and preferably in one piece so Loki can question them, and do your absolute best to not damage any furniture, property, walls, that kind of thing. I know how this goes in movies. Do not tear up this room, especially when we don’t have Loki and his magic to maybe fix it.”

“I musn’t kill him?” Thor asked, confusion in his tone.

Jane nearly snorted, but ended her workout and went over to do some stretching, closer to Darcy.

“No. You really musn’t,” Darcy responded, wondering why she was surprised, given what Loki had said about his brother. “Promise me you won’t.”

“Yes, my lady. I promise,” Thor said, his tone even.

Darcy proceeded to do some yoga, and almost missed the moment when Creepy Cutie pulled out a gun and nearly shot Thor.

* * *

“That’s a weapon!” was what he heard Jane urgently breathe out almost under her breath.

Thor reached for it immediately, wrenching it away and throwing it in the general direction of the Doctor Foster. It wasn’t the sort of weapon he knew how to wield, and so was useless to him. But he did have the novel advantage of being unseen in this encounter. He used it.

Thor balled up his left fist and struck the back of the assassin’s head. The blow was not enough to kill, he didn’t think, but more than enough, he hoped, to render the mercenary unconscious.

The assassin groaned and crumpled. Before his legs could be caught up in the machine and broken, Thor caught him and pulled him away, laying him out behind all such machines in the room that Midgardians used to exercise their bodies instead of, Thor mused, actually going outside and running around.

Her Highness, his sister, and the Doctor Foster were quick to join him from across the room.

“I think he’s coming to, Thor. Hit him again,” were the only things his sister said.

He was.

And he did.

* * *

When they all returned to the room, he was still unconscious. As they checked him for weapons, they discovered that his left arm was one. It was one giant, continuous, metallic, weapon of an arm. And it had a red star painted on it. Which was weird. Was it a personal insignia? Was it from the flag of a country? A secret organization? All of which would be incredibly stupid, in case he was ever caught. Like now. Darcy put it out of her mind as they argued about what to do with him.

Thor was all for turning him over to Asgard where he could wait in their very secure jail until Loki was able to interview him. Darcy wanted to wait until he woke up, at least, so she could talk with him a bit. Jane was on the fence, but did point out that it would be a difficult moment when the man had to pee.

But then he _did_ wake up.

He lunged for Darcy and she flinched back even as Thor tackled him back to the ground and wrestled until he had Creepy Cutie in a bearhug.

Jane had her arm around Darcy and both women were taking deep breaths.

“Well, he’s awake,” Jane noted.

Darcy had never interrogated anyone before. But she’d seen a _lot_ of movies.

“Hi,” she started off. “I’m Darcy, what’s your name?” she asked, because really, there was no reason this couldn’t be a friendly interrogation.

He spat at her. Happily she was far enough away that it didn’t actually land on her, and maybe that’s why Darcy was able to take the humorous high road.

“Well, I’m not very good at spitting, but if that’s how you want to be addressed, Assassin Known as,” and here she paused to spit, “I can totally get better at it.” She paused and smiled, wondering where this calm was coming from, but grateful nonetheless. “Now, if at some point you would like to give me your other name, you know, not Assassin Known as,” and here she paused to spit, “just let me know.”

“So.” She leaned back on the couch and tried to get as comfortable as she could. “Do you realize that you have attempted assassination on a member of the Royal House of Asgard? And that Asgard is, in fact, a planet far, far away?” There was nothing but a cold stare in return. “Thor,” she asked, “What is the usual punishment for an assassination attempt against a member of the Royal House of Asgard?”

“Death, my lady. If there were witnesses,” he responded darkly.

“Death. Hmm. Well,” she said, turning her attention back to the Assassin Privately Known as the Crazy Creepy Cutie. “We’ll be sending you there in just a bit. But it’s possible I won’t tell them why we want you held. I think I can get away with that.” She looked to Thor for confirmation.

“Yes, my lady,” he responded.

“But of course, it all depends on what you tell me. You can, of course, continue to share your saliva. That’s your choice. But you should realize that when my husband returns I can either ensure that he _doesn’t_ kill you on sight, or that he does, and in the most painful way he knows. Thor, what do you think he’d do?”

“It depends on his mood, I should think, my lady. If he is merciful,” Thor said, now addressing the assassin, “a dagger to thy heart. If he is not, he would likely bind thee magically, and cut off the very hand that held thy weapon, roast it over a fire before thee and then watch as thou wert forced to eat it. Then he would perhaps flay the skin off thy whole body. He would certainly remove thy head, for it would need to be put on display before the palace, but whether he would do that before or after thy death I do not know. I’m certain there may be other things. My brother is most inventive. Perhaps strange, odd things with thine organs. I’ve heard such things can be most useful for a certain sort of magic ritual.”

Darcy watched as the Crazy Creepy Cutie’s eyes narrowed, holding her own all throughout Thor’s gruesome description. Finally he opened his mouth to speak.

“You’re really from another planet?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, like Darcy’s was when she’d screamed too much.

“Nope,” she answered, truthfully. “I’m from Tucson. I married into this. But yes, another planet is involved.”

Thor squeezed him tighter, but said nothing.

“I’ll tell you what I know, for a merciful death, somewhere far away from here,” he said quietly as before, his voice dark and full of pain.

Darcy’s eyebrows raised of their own accord. Was this a lie? Who knew? After a moment she responded. “My husband will know if you’re lying,” she pointed out.

He just stared.

Darcy thought about this for a moment. “Okay. If you don’t lie to me, if you don’t mislead me, if you tell me all that you know without withholding strategic and pertinent pieces of information, I will do all that I can to ensure that your death is both merciful and on Asgard, should you still wish death, rather than any other alternative presented to you. In the meantime, after our conversation, you’ll be transferred to Asgard.”

“First,” he said, “someone must go into the room next door,” he nodded to one side of the room, “and collect my things. Destroy anything electrical and put it in the trash. My bag has the medicine I need.”

Darcy nodded and looked to Jane, who silently picked up the key card they’d found when they searched him, and left.

Darcy watched as the Assassin Privately Known as Crazy Creepy Cutie watched Jane leave. His gaze returned to Darcy and they quietly stared at each other for a while.

“I am the Winter Soldier, Agent Four of Hydra. They have been my keeper for as long as I can remember, what little I remember. Escape was never an option, until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. You'll note that I didn't add as character tags Pierce or the Winter Soldier, because, really, that would be spoilery. And I wanted to avoid that. But I'll add them when I post the next chapter. :)


	12. Wherein the weaving gets complicated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several of Loki’s plots come to fruition, and this is what it looks like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! I hope you like the chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it. :) Thank you oodles to all the lovely reviewers. You guys are awesome.

Darcy put her phone in airplane mode, just for that extra added bit of security, even though out in the middle of nowhere, they had zero signal. Then she took, really, a  _ lot _ of pictures. His face, close up, every angle. His arm. The two mediports on his chest. She took closeups of each his fingertips, hoping that might do for a fingerprint if push ever came to shove. She took pictures of him from behind, pictures with Thor in the frame for height reference. A brief thought flickered through her mind:  _ most people don’t take this many pictures of their would-be assassin, Darcy.  _

She looked to Jane. “Think I missed anything?”

Jane gave her an arch look. “He’s not a lost puppy, Darcy.” 

She left the rest unsaid, which was just as well. Darcy rolled her eyes. She might not be able to save the Winter Soldier. He had probably done really terrible things and deserved to be in a jail cell. But if he couldn’t remember who he was, well, maybe the Men in Black could help, once their own crisis was averted. Maybe he could die knowing his own name. If it were her, she’d want someone to do it on her behalf. 

Then Darcy remembered. Voice. Confession. Just in case.

She navigated over to the voice recorder and hit the red button.

“This is Darcy Lewis, er, Darcy of Asgard, with my would-be assassin. Please give me your identification as you know it, and confirm that you did try to kill me earlier today.”

She walked a few paces forward and held the phone by his mouth.

“I am Agent 4 of HYDRA, also known as the Winter Soldier. I have no name. I have no rank. I have no serial number. I was sent by my keepers to kill the Crown Prince of Asgard and his wife, and any who might be with them. I was not told why. I was stopped by the Princess’s bodyguard. I have been promised a merciful death far away from here in exchange for information, which I have provided. I am grateful to the Princess to be given an opportunity to truly escape my keepers. If I stayed on Earth, they would surely find me, punish me, and take my memories of this away from me.”

Darcy nodded and took a step away, back toward Jane. “For the record, it’s July 27th, 2011,” Darcy added, not noticing the look of confusion on the assassin’s face.

“Darce, it’s Sunday. It’s the 28th, now,” Jane corrected her.

She paused and looked up. “Oh, shit, right,  _ oh-shit-I-just-swore-in-the-recording, oh-fuck-I-just-did-it-again.  _ God damn it. Anyway. Right. It’s actually July 28th. My bad,” she said, finally hitting the red icon to end the recording. And the embarrassment. For a fleeting moment she thought about deleting the recording and starting over, but then she imagined that in an endless loop, on take thirty-three, trying to get it just right. Nope. One take. That’s it.

Darcy continued walking, still looking at her phone, muttering in general to the three people assembled that she’d be with them in just a minute. She made sure that the pictures she’d just taken and the voice recording were on her SIM card and that nothing else was. She ejected it and handed it to Jane. “Interdimension that, would you?” Then she took a deep breath and touched the screen at ‘Factory Reset’. She confirmed it twice on screen and then her phone cleaned itself off and rebooted. She took another deep breath and blinked back sudden tears.

“What have you done?” asked the quiet, grated voice of the assassin.

Darcy did a quick wipe of her eyes before she looked at him. And this time she really looked at him. He seemed less creepy now, and more haunted. “I’m going to try and find out who you are.” A moment later she added, “If you remember anything, anything at all, tell one of the guards, okay?”

He nodded slightly. Darcy watched as he opened his mouth as if to speak, but remained silent.

She looked at him even closer. “Do you remember something now?”

“I…” His mouth closed slowly. His eyes darted around before coming back to hers. “What year did you say it was, Ma’am?”

Darcy raised one eyebrow. “It’s the year two thousand and eleven, Winter Soldier. What’s the last year you remember clearly?”

“Well,” he said slowly and softly, his voice still painful to hear it sounded so grated, like he needed to drink some hot tea with lemon, or something. “I don’t remember anything clearly, not past the mission parameters. But 1940 seems a lot less…  _ wrong.  _ I… It doesn’t makes sense, but…”

He trailed off again and Darcy took one step closer, both patient and impatient at the same time.

“I… I don’t know why this should be, but last night, when His Highness mentioned, mentioned  _ Captain Rogers _ …”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “You knew Captain America? Were you, like, his super secret archenemy?”

The Winter Soldier looked tired. “I don’t remember anything, not really. But his name was… familiar, somehow.” Darcy watched him sigh and then meet her eyes once more. “Why are you doing this?”

Darcy wasn’t sure how to answer that. She couldn’t, actually, imagine a world in which given this situation, she  _ wouldn’t  _ do this. How do you explain your motivations when your course of action seems to be normal?

“Because _she’s_ _lost her mind,”_ Jane muttered behind her in a sing-song tone, her voice quiet, but carrying quite well in the barren desert.

Darcy turned around and glared at Jane. “Compassion,” she said harshly. “It’s a  _ thing.”  _ She turned back to the Soldier. “Because I can,” she answered. “My husband will visit you in three or four days.”

He nodded silently.

She looked up. “Heimdal, you can send those guards we discussed. And if the prisoner does remember anything, I want it noted and reported back as soon as possible.”

The bifrost was activated and a half dozen guards appeared. They put his wrists in fancy, large cuffs and strapped his elbows to his torso. They strapped his thighs together from hip to just above his knee and then put shackles around his ankles. Finally, they put a mask over his nose and mouth which strapped on around the back of his head.

Darcy thought maybe she heard him try to say thank you, just before the mask went on.

* * *

“What do you mean he hasn’t reported back in?”

“It’s worse than that, sir. His trace went offline. It’s doubtful he found it himself, it’s buried so deeply in his abdomen. But it  _ is _ tied to his biorhythms. I’m sorry, sir. Agent 4 is dead. Whether or not the prince had anything to do with our present situation, it is likely that he was in possession of advanced technology which cancelled out the Winter Soldier’s advantage.”

“Is it likely he talked before he died?”

“No sir. His programming would prohibit that.”

“What if the programming was faulty?”

“It hasn’t failed in the last sixty-five years, sir. The algorithm is certain that there wasn’t anything significantly different enough about this encounter.”

“When did he die?”

“His trace went offline an hour ago, sir, but it is able to continue for up to thirty minutes after death. If the GPS is correct, his body was teleported to New Mexico - the future site of the Asgardian Embassy - and disposed of there.”

Pierce hung up from his secure line and opened his bottom drawer. Between the files he picked up the next burner phone, plugged it into the small portable charger in his pants pocket and walked out of his office. He went to get himself a coffee and then went for a walk, considering his options. There weren’t many left. Operation KillSwitch was inevitable, and Pierce knew the time was drawing near. The only question was whether there was time enough for the twelve hour window necessary for Operation BlueStorm.

Fifteen minutes later he pulled the phone out and powered it on. He opened up the texting app on the cheap phone. He punched in the number for his assistant.  _ “Initiate KillSwitch.” _

Pierce waited for the confirmation and then immediately powered down the phone, wiped it of his prints and tossed it in a garbage can on the street, along with his half-finished coffee.

He never received the second text his assistant sent. Never even knew it existed. As a matter of fact, he was considering BlueEagle, and the preparation necessary.

* * *

It was a difficult argument, but in the end Darcy and Jane had convinced Thor that the only weapons he could bring with them were weapons he could hide on his person, and that was just the rule for going out in public at this point. So far as weapons were concerned, not much could be hidden in the black leather pants of the sort that Loki also favored, but apparently there were throwing daggers in his boots. He wore a simple white shirt with a fitted red leather jacket that hung a little below his waist. Darcy happened to know that there were fighting daggers in a holster on his back and more throwing daggers up his sleeves.

Thor complained that he was woefully unprepared for a fight, and that he didn’t have any real weapons on him, nor any armor. Neither woman had much sympathy.

Darcy’s phone trilled at her. She turned the volume down without even looking at it. She and Jane and Thor were sitting in a diner in Seattle sipping at their coffees after their breakfast had been cleared away. “Darce,” Jane started thoughtfully. “When was your appointment with that professor?”

“Oh, shit,” Darcy muttered, putting her coffee down and pulling out her phone to read the text she’d just received.  _ “Apologies. Running ten minutes late. Let’s meet at the Starbucks on campus.”  _ Darcy took a deep breath in and exhaled a giant sigh.

“You could reschedule. It’s not too late,” Jane pointed out.

Darcy’s mind rested in blissful blankness for a few moments before she shook her head. “We’ve got so much to do, and I can’t sleep anyway. I might as well just get this meeting over with.”

Jane nodded. “Promise me you’ll go to sleep early tonight, and sleep for as long as you need? I’ll pop over and bring Thor food. Now that he’s up to full strength he seems to eat even more than Loki. So don’t worry about that.” Then Jane turned her attention to Thor. “Is there anything you want that you didn’t take?”

Darcy didn’t pay attention to Thor’s request for whatever it was he didn’t bring. She was thinking about how, exactly, one comes out to one’s favorite professor and tells her that your literally outlandish hypothetical was actually life as you knew it, unfolding around you even as you spoke?

Well, maybe just like that.

Loki would have been very convenient for show and tell, but there were other things that could be useful. She didn’t particularly want to use Thor, because that would just get complicated way too quickly. But there was the trunk, and the teleporting, and the cloak. This could work.

“Do you need moral support, honey?” Jane asked kindly.

Darcy shook her head. “I can do this. And I’ll have Thor with me. And this time I actually have my trunk token in my pocket, and I have, well, not all of those bags you recommended, but I have at least one. And I’m putting on my cloak before I go, hood down, but just in case, you know?”

Jane nodded in understanding. “Want me to get you a set of the bags I use? They’re super crushable so it’s not really weird taking even the largest out of my pocket.”

Darcy sighed a little in relief. “That would be awesome. Thank you, Jane.” She sighed again. “When Loki wakes the hell up, I’m gonna hit him.”

* * *

“Okay. So, here’s the deal. We’re going into another place that sells coffee, among other things, I’ll buy your coffee and there may come a time when I introduce you to my professor, but otherwise, I want you to sit at a table near us. When we get up to leave, follow us a couple of paces back. We may need to go somewhere where I can demonstrate some stuff to her, okay?”

“Of course, my lady. I would not wish to interrupt your meeting,” Thor replied, all sincerity.

Darcy looked over and up at him as they walked along campus. He looked, well, not fashionable, but still like someone any sorority girl would want to hit on. She tried to ignore that she was wearing a cloak and not as a fashion statement. “Having a bodyguard is weird,” she decided to say instead.

“It is an oddity that one gets used to, my lady.”

Darcy nodded and glanced around her. It was strange that she had somehow expected campus to feel different, now that she herself was so different. Then she saw the guy in fatigues with an automatic rifle. Darcy tried not to stare, and her brain filled in the blanks. National Guard. _ But why would the National Guard be called out? Had something actually happened on campus, again? _

She blinked and shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. But then, maybe she should tell Thor. Or shouldn’t she? If she didn’t, and something happened, Loki would be angry and rightfully so. 

“Um, Thor. Something has happened here. I don’t know what. It probably has nothing to do with us, and it won’t affect us in the least, but you should probably know.”

“How can you tell, my lady?” Thor asked, and he seemed tenser than before, obviously taking her words very seriously.

“We just passed a guy with a very large, unconcealed weapon, a member of the National Guard. The National Guard is only called out when something goes very wrong inside the country.”

“I see,” he said, and then they walked in silence until they got to the strip of chain stores on campus.

Darcy held the door open for him to go through first, just out of habit. Thor followed silently as she made her way over to the line, looking around the shop. “Okay. She’s not here yet, but we are a little early.”

In fact, they were able to place their order and receive their drinks before Professor Zost showed up. There was only one problem, however. There was exactly one table open in the crowded cafe. It had one chair. This was the lunchtime rush, over here on the east coast. Or, in terms of college students and Sundays, the breakfast rush.

“I will stand over there, my lady, the better to see the entire room.”

“You sure?” Darcy asked, feeling really weird about sitting while he was forced to stand. Then she remembered what Loki had said about standing at court for long hours, and she told her guilt to take a hike.

Thor only nodded, and moved to his place against the wall, where he casually sipped his decaf Americano and scanned the room.

With Thor accommodated, Darcy set her coffee on the table to mark it as taken and managed to wrangle another chair, while half listening to conversations in the cafe that were hard to ignore anyway. Everyone was buzzing about what had happened, and at least from the snippets of conversation, Darcy still had no idea what was going on. Until she heard the phrase ‘giant green roid rager’ which gave her a clue. 

Dr. Banner. A sob snuck out before Darcy clamped down on her emotions. No! She was not going to break down crying for someone she’d never even met! She pulled herself together and hoisted the chair over her head, heading back to her own table.

It was, of course, when she had the tiny cafe chair over her head, making her way through a little crush of seated people that her professor came in.  _ Well, at least I’m easy to spot, _ she thought.

Seated at the table and waiting for her professor, she practiced the deep breathing that Loki had taught her, and on breath eight could almost not resist the urge to cry. She sniffed and kept it back in, but realized that at some point soon she was going to need to crash, maybe in more ways than one. Also, sleep would be nice. Hers was a decaf latte, just in case sleep became a possibility sooner rather than later.

Darcy rose when her professor approached and there was a brief one armed hug.

“It’s good to see you Darcy. How’s that strange internship of yours going? And what brings you back to campus in the middle of it?” The dark haired woman set her leather attache case down at her feet beside the little half wall their table was pushed up next to. Darcy’s favorite professor took a sip of her tall black dark roast moments after she sat down, an inquisitive look on her face.

Darcy took another deep breath. “The internship is... really strange. And the travelling thing… yeah. More about that in a minute. But before we begin, I need to apologize. I pulled an all-nighter last night and I’m a little crispy around the edges. If I start not making sense, it could be that.”

The professor looked at her for a minute, and Darcy could feel not the judgment, but the analysis. “Why did you pull an all-nighter in an internship outside of your field, on a weekend, back on campus?”

“Moral support. Actually, I finished up the reading for that hypothetical I’m working on, and started in on the outline. But then there was drama after that, and it was super stressful, and then I just couldn’t sleep. But anyway. So. I wanted to meet with you because a colleague of my internship mentor pointed out that you could give me better guidance if you knew the whole story, and that really, you needed to know sooner rather than later.”

The Eyebrow of Extreme Inquisitiveness rose. It was the left one. Not the right one.

Darcy could feel the giggles trying to escape, but stomped them down with images of Daffy Duck stomping on Bugs Bunny, saying, “Down! Down! Down! Back! Back! Back!” 

After a moment’s pause, the professor made her response, and Darcy came back from the land of Looney Tunes. “Okay,” Professor Zost said. “Do it in twenty words or less.”

Darcy thought about that for a moment and decided to do one better. “I’ll do it in three. ‘The hypothetical - isn’t.’”

The professor’s eyes narrowed. “I wondered. Tell me from the beginning.”

So Darcy quietly spun the tale of wormholes and princes and whirlwind romances, over coffee, in the crowded Starbucks on campus. Given the volume and intensity of conversations around them, if anyone overheard, they didn’t care.

“Huh,” the older woman said, and Darcy could practically see her mind churning.

“Yeah, it’s like that. Would it be helpful for me to do some magic? Since my husband couldn’t join me today to be my show and tell?”

“Of course,” she replied.

Darcy drew her hood over her head and willed not to be noticed by her professor, and just her professor.

Darcy watched as the older woman slowly and gingerly reached out and touched Darcy’s hand as it held her latte. There was a look of triumph, and then when she took her hand back she looked confused. Professor Zost shook her head, as if to clear it, squinted at her and then leaned over to another cafe patron. It was a youngish looking undergrad who was in the middle of a rather dramatic diatribe against a syllabus.  _ “And there’s this rampaging monster and still we had a test on Friday! Just because of a syllabus?! Give me a break and try living in the actual world, buddy! That damn piece of paper--” _

“Excuse me. So sorry to interrupt. This is a social experiment. Tell me, can you see someone sitting with me, or am I sitting here alone?”

The undergrad gave her a look like she’d lost her mind and Darcy couldn’t help but to giggle. “Uh, there’s a girl there. With a very, uh, fashion forward hood on.”

Darcy snorted with laughter. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was a matter of laughing or crying at this point, she was so punchy.

Water. She needed to drink water. She’d get some water before she went.

She took the hood off and smiled. “Hi.”

Her professor blinked. “Okay. What just happened?”

Darcy explained the use of her Almost-Exactly-Like-Harry-Potter’s-Invisibility-Cloak. “And now, I’ll leave you to stew on that for a moment. I realize I need water. A lot of water. And the line is short right now, so I’ll be right back. And after that, maybe let’s walk? Because there are other things I could show you, but not in the middle of Starbucks.”

She grabbed four massive bottles of water and brought them to the counter. Once she’d paid for them, she brought them back to the table, all clutched to her chest in a row. Still standing, and facing her professor, she continued. “Show and tell number two: I have an infinitely large interdimensional storage space, currently accessible through the pocket of yes, my skinny jeans.” And then she proceeded to put one giant bottle of water after another into her jean’s pocket that without her trunk’s token just barely accommodated her phone, but not her phone and her wallet, both.

Her professor blinked. “That’s interesting.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve got the entire library of another world in there, and no frigging time to read it.”

Her professor’s eyes got quite wide. “Really…”

Darcy nodded. “You ready? FYI, we’ll be joined by my bodyguard. He’s the big, blond one standing over there, in red. Don’t worry, he’s cool.”

Professor Zost looked over at Darcy with new eyes. “You  _ have  _ had an interesting internship after all, haven’t you?”

“Oh, you have  _ no  _ idea,” Darcy replied.

“I’m getting a pretty clear picture, actually,” her mentor responded, and not for the first time Darcy wondered how much the woman knew  _ and just never said. _

* * *

“Your mentor’s colleague was right.  You have to write this from a straight-forward perspective or it will be a feeding frenzy when you do come out. Of course, timing is everything. I tell you what. What you really want to do, and I’ll help you with this, is write the article, and write an opinion piece. I know someone on the board of Politico. I think we could get the article to them and they would keep it more or less on the down low. There would be some minor leaks, but no one would necessarily believe them. Would you be okay with that?”

Darcy shrugged. “There have already been some leaks.” She showed the professor the beautiful sapphire ring on her left ring finger. “He bought that at Cartier in France. He used his new credit card. I’m pretty sure he knew exactly what he was doing and did it on purpose. He’s somewhat mischievous like that. Actually, he’s entirely mischievous. Sometimes I just call him Mischief. Anyway. You were saying about an opinion piece, too?” Darcy took another swig of her latte, finishing it and throwing it in a bin as they passed.

“Yes. That will be for the New York Times. The day after you go public - and you should do no interviews for a little while, everything should be ‘no comment’ - you send that to the New York Times. The tone of the Politico piece should be cold, logical, and clear of any emotion. The opinion piece’s tone should be warm, intelligent, and hopeful. Can I meet your husband at some point soon? It will help me get a sense of the best tack to take with both articles.”

Darcy nodded as they walked. “He’s busy for a few days,” she said, instinctively unwilling to admit to anyone but Jane that he was completely out cold and helpless and for god knows how long. “But that shouldn’t be a problem.” After a moment, she continued. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” the professor added. “Going back to something you said before. Remember that your staff won’t have the same kind of diplomatic immunity that your husband has, or is going to have, and by extension, you as his family. An act of aggression against him is tantamount to an act of war, and the same goes for anyone he deputizes. That includes spying on you. But your staff is fair game. And of course, such rules apply only to other governments and their agents, not to private citizens, like, for instance, the paparazzi. Who I imagine will be much more excited about his arrival than the governments. Remember that cameras can have obscenely powerful telescopic lenses, okay? And that Google has it’s own satellites.”

For some reason she couldn’t immediately grasp, it all just made Darcy giggle uncontrollably. That was how she knew this particular meeting needed to come to an end.

* * *

Her orders were clear. Interrogate the prisoner, without  _ interrogating _ him. As head of the All-Mother’s guard, she’d never been ordered to do such a thing, but she shouldn’t be surprised, really. The prisoner had been captured by the Princess and sent back to Asgard to await interrogation by the Crown Prince. The Princess had neglected to mention why this should be.

Svanhild took a deep breath, remembered her training and the trust she had of the All-Mother, and entered the corridor holding this particular prisoner. He was the only one held in  _ this _ corridor.

She stopped in front of the secured chamber and looked through the translucent panel.

The Midgardian was lying down on his cot, perhaps asleep.

Svanhild, normally somewhat soft spoken, took a deep breath and spoke very loudly, indeed. “Greetings, Winter Soldier!”

In a fluid and even graceful movement, the alien rose to his feet and walked so close to the panel separating them that Svanhild would have stepped back to give him the polite amount of space, but she was on duty, so no such niceties could occur. 

She stared up at the Midgardian, as the cells were raised above the level of the corridor. Normally this gave the effect of caged animals, and that was true with this prisoner, to be sure. But the calm and vacant stare was arresting in its own right.

The silence grew as the two merely stared at each other.

_ Were all Midgardians like this one?  _ She’d never had the opportunity to meet the Princess or her shieldmaiden when they were briefly here, but she supposed now it was inevitable to meet more of the creatures. And for a so-called Winter Soldier, he looked remarkably unlike the savage frost giants of Jotunheim.

The stray thought reminded Svanhild of her duty.

“Greetings, Winter Soldier,” she began again. “I am Svanhild and I come at the behest of the All-Mother. She wishes to be assured that our protocols are being observed.”

Silence. Nothing from the one in the cell.

“Are you aware of the reason for your detainment?”

That stare. Silence. And finally, “Yes.” His voice was like broken crockery.

Hoping that he would say more, and perhaps include the reason for his detainment, Svanhild waited, continuing to meet his stare. She noted in her peripheral vision that he stood loosely, his hands to his side. And one of his hands was strange indeed.

“Do you consider yourself guilty?”

The moment before he opened his mouth to speak, his stare was so intense that she almost looked away. However, she did not. Svanhild redoubled her will, deepened her breath, and remembered her duty.

“Yes,” he said.

His answers seemed to be wrapped in silence, and in something else, something toxic. Svanhild was no sorceress, but this sort of awareness had never led her astray. This, if nothing else, would be something to report back to the All-Mother.

A flash of inspiration led to the next question.

“You seem to be waiting for something, What is it?”

He spoke more willingly. She’d hit on something, though she didn’t know what, yet.

“I am waiting for Loki, your prince, to interrogate me. And kill me.”

The toxicity was gone, and there was something else. Relief?

“Do you seek death, Winter Soldier?”

His head tilted slowly to one side as he kept his gaze steadily on hers. After only a moment one of his eyes was obscured by unkempt hair hanging down.

“Tell me why you care and I’ll tell you the truth, Svanhild,” he said, and his words somehow stripped her bare.

She answered as truthfully as she could, without compromising the All-Mother’s orders, or intent.

“I have met men who truly have no fear of death,” she said, thinking of the five berzerkers she had once met, “but never one who sought it out. Who can be eager to meet the fate of his next life when he has not yet finished this one?” she said. It was a common enough saying, but it somehow came out without her meaning for it to.

“One who is broken,” he said, slowly. When he spoke, only his lips moved, no other part of him moved or matched gesture for words. It made Svanhild realize how much she was used to normal people being more animated when they spoke. “I am broken, and no amount of medicine puts me back together again. I am an egg that falls from a high wall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t put me back together again.”

After a moment of quiet in which Svanhild just absorbed as best she could what the Midgardian had said, he continued, his head held straight again. The slight movement seemed huge, somehow.

“Will you torture me?”

“No,” the Head of the Guard responded.

“Then you will give me my medicine? It came with me in a black bag.”

It was the second time he’d mentioned medicine. Her eyes narrowed.

“If you are unwell, you will be attended to and receive better care than you could on Midgard.” Svanhild made a mental note to strongly recommend a full diagnostic scan to the All-Mother.

Silence from the Winter Soldier.

“Your left hand. Is that what is broken?”

A smile she did not entirely like curled up one corner of his mouth. It did not meet his eyes.

“It’s the only thing that isn’t broken.”

Silence once more between them and the Winter Soldier seemed to barely be breathing he was so still. Svanhild continued her deep breathing exercises. Finally she spoke.

“Is there anything you would like the Queen and Regent of Asgard to know?”

The coldness of the stare was back and Svanhild hadn’t even realized it had somehow softened.

“Yes. I attempted the assassination of her son and daughter-in-law, and deserve death.”

Svanhild hid her shock.

“Did you attempt it in order that you would be killed?” If so, this was the most convoluted way she’d ever heard of to commit suicide.

“No.”

“Why did you attempt the assassination?”

“It was required of me.”

“Required how? By whom?”

Silence. After a long moment he broke eye contact for the first time since he approached the clear wall separating them. He turned and went back to his cot and laid himself down.

“You are not Loki. I waste my time answering your questions.”

“As you wish, Winter Soldier. As you wish,” she said, knowing and approving of the matronizing tone in her voice. It mitigated the fact that she had lost control of the interview and he’d seized it.

Svanhild walked away and considered what information she’d gained.

The prisoner required immediate medical and magical attention. He was suicidal. He had attempted the assassination of the Crown Prince and the new Princess, which he said was ‘required of him’. A sensible assumption was that he worked under duress, but it was only an assumption.

There was something else she couldn’t put her finger on, something about their interaction that Svanhild couldn’t quite quantify. No matter. She would do her best to describe his affect, his stare to the All-Mother, and she would know what it meant, if it meant anything at all.

* * *

Thor watched as his sister collapsed into the lounging couch in the suite of rooms she shared with his brother. He was not distracted by the whisper and hum of the tame lightning all around him, even now that he could understand what it said. He had gotten slightly innured to the pull of its words and conversation, so different from free lightning, crashing down with unbridled glee from the clouds, often as his behest. At any rate, there would be, he estimated, plenty of time for him to consider it more deeply. He would likely be here for several more days as his brother rested. His own magic, Thor mused, was far more interesting on Midgard than on Asgard.

“What a day!” his sister exclaimed.

Thor silently agreed. His little sister had certainly shown her mettle, and Thor was hard pressed to even remember his initial thoughts upon seeing her, that she seemed in turn bubbly and alluring, but entirely ornamental.

“Guh. What time is it? Is it time for food?” 

Thor watched as she fumbled in her pocket for something, and then pulled out her  _ cellular telephone _ \- a phrase which did not translate at all, but which he understood now to be her primary communication device, and a powerful little thing it was, too. 

Thor watched as she tapped the face of the device a few times, and he could feel the sensation of stored lightning surging to wakefulness. He marveled that she held it in her hands and knew it not. She shifted then and held it differently, cradling it in between both of her hands, her thumbs flying over the surface. Thor realized she must be participating in the soundless, written communication which was so prevalent here that it required him to learn the language of his hosts from scratch, without the aid of magical spells. While he did not at all look forward to learning yet another language, he was quite interested in learning how to use such lightning-powered communication devices as the  _ cellular telephone  _ and the  _ laptop computer.  _

“Oh, good,” his little sister mumbled groggily, her eyes slowly closing. “Chinese in twenty.”

Thor wondered what she meant, even as it was clear she had just fallen asleep.

* * *

His brother stumbled in from the bed chamber and the first he heard of it was Loki’s voice, once he was well into the communal lounging area.

“What- are you  _ meditating? _ ” came his brother’s incredulous and slurred opening salvo in Aesir.

As a matter of fact, he was. On Asgard he had nothing quite so interesting in the realm of magic to focus upon, not like here. His mother had been right. Modern Midgard was  _ fascinating.  _ And so Thor dusted off his mental volumes of ‘how to meditate upon your magic’ that he hadn’t much used since his tutors had given up on the subject, and tried once more, to truly monumental effect.

“Yes,” he answered his little brother, briefly. “Are you well, Loki?”

Just then his brother went to sit upon the arm of the lounging couch, only to slowly slip and fall until he was lying on it, with his legs propped up in the air by the arm.

“I’m hungry. Is there still an assassin next door? What day is it? Have you killed him yet?”

Thor got up to retrieve some of the food that his sister never ate. He had tried to wake her when Jane arrived, but it was to no avail. Instead he had carefully brought her into the bed chamber and laid her down next to his slumbering brother, and closed the door behind him.

“It is early Sunday evening. He is no longer next door,” Thor answered, pulling containers of food out from the lightning-powered cold chest and taking up a fork before returning to his brother. “And no, I did not kill him,” he added, placing the closed container on top of his brother’s chest, with a fork on top of that.

“Why not?” Loki asked, struggling with the container.

“Your wife forbade me from doing such a thing.”

Thor watched as his brother’s face was overcome with a mindless grin. He finally opened the container, but then could not quite manage to get food on his fork and to his mouth. Thor just watched, amused, wondering how long until it would dawn on his brother than he needed to be upright in order to eat.

Reaching for the fork he’d just dropped on the floor, Loki rolled off the lounging couch. It did not look like an intentional roll. It rather looked like he fell. He seemed to have saved his container of chilled food, however, and that was some minor feat, considering.

“Ah, this is much better,” he heard a moment or two later, Loki’s voice somewhat muffled. Apparently he found a position in which he could eat. Lying on the floor. “So what happened, then?” Thor heard, and marveled. Loki had not spoken with his mouth full of food since he was but a child.

Thor grinned, considering how much fodder his little brother was giving him. “Your wife drew him out, captured him, arrested him, questioned him, and then sent him to Asgard to be held until you were ready to interrogate him further.”

“Isn’t she wonderful?” Loki asked around his food, which was some sort of breaded and fried meat in a thick sauce.

Thor raised a single brow. “As you are in no fit state to attack me, I shall agree with you.”

Loki snorted. “I would never attack you for agreeing with me. It happens so rarely. I shall celebrate instead. With this next morsel. Which tastes divine, truly.”

The two were silent while Loki finished up the portion of a meal in the container. He pushed it away and rested his head on the thick carpet. The silence drew out longer and longer, filled only by the buzz and hum of the conversing lightning around him, wondering why he had stopped his end of the conversation they’d been having for hours, now.

“Loki?” Thor called out, after some time of silence. “Loki?”

The further silence assured him that he, too, had fallen asleep. Thor got up and grabbed his brother by the feet, dragging him clear of the awkward space between the lounging couch and the low table. He bent down and hoisted his little brother up and over his shoulder. He carried him back into the bed chamber and pulled back the covers with his free hand.

Thor put Loki back to bed, laying him next to his slumbering wife, and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Operation Sunny Day had a green light and an expanded outline. The archives were being evacuated to a deserted spot in the middle of nowhere, and temporary facilities were being erected even now for the staff that would be retained. The Director had indicated what sort of aircraft was to be stored and it frankly made Hill’s eyes widen. All three helicarriers. Fourteen of the forty Quinjets, once concurrent operations were finished. Three of the twenty blackhawks. Two of the six C-130Js. And that was just the aircraft. The list of cars and hardware he wanted from SHIELD Scientific sounded like an extensively cherry-picked list that might have been summarized by saying, ‘bring three of everything’.

The University would continue on, a separate entity under a new name, and Hill was silently grateful that it wasn’t her problem.

Speaking of gratitude, the Vault was  _ also  _ not her problem. Hill frankly had no idea how they managed to get any guards to work there. The survival rate of prison guards at the Vault was not worth, in her opinion, the tripled paycheck, excellent benefits, and premium life insurance.

And the Director had both added and subtracted to the list of agents that she was to pull for the continuation of SHIELD in the new, downsized form. And there was a new list, a list which had her name on it.

“I know you aren’t a fan of the Avenger’s Initiative, Hill, and I know you have no desire to be a librarian. We’ll leave that to the Cavalry, instead. But the Embassy of Asgard is going to need someone to head up their security, someone who can work with weird and understands what’s at stake.”

That is what Fury said at their somewhat surprising in-person meeting the day after he was to invite His Royal Highness to join the boy’s club.

“Sir, you’re right. I don’t want to be a librarian. But I also don’t know what is at stake, either.”

“You will.”

When Hill had three free minutes together she decided to do a little research on her own behalf, but when she looked for the documents both in SHIELD’s secure database as well as her own offline copy, they were all three gone, as if they’d never existed. As well as all the reports that mentioned them.

Stargazer.

Princess.

Mischief.

That’s when she turned on CNN in the background and realized that all hell had decided to break loose.

* * *

Operation KillSwitch was a nightmarish failure of epic proportion and James wasn’t sure what to do about it, and wasn’t sure if his job was really worth it. It’s not like he actually  _ believed  _ in HYDRA, like some of the wackjobs around here. Perhaps it was time to take the cool two mil he’d diverted into his own private off-shore funds and disappear into Paraguay. No one made waves, there. It was where everyone went to recoup.

He waited and waited for his boss to respond to his second text, but  _ nothing.  _ For  _ hours.  _ Fully half of KillSwitch was a no-go, and it was, arguably, the important half. The media mayhem would be easy, no matter what. HYDRA had full backup of SHIELD’s database stored offline. It would be easier than anything to leak the prepped press releases, each with a fragment of truth and a whole world of spin in just the right ways to inflame Congress and upset both the GOP and the dems.

But it was the  _ first part.  _ The  _ important  _ part. The part where each of the double agents loyal to HYDRA but nominally with SHIELD  _ takes out their HYDRA underlings, step-by-step up the pyramid until there’s only one left!  _ Each was apprised of KillSwitch and each was assured that  _ they _ were the necessary ones and of course  _ they  _ wouldn’t be eliminated. And of course they would be, by  _ their _ superior.

Except everyone was out sick.  _ Everyone.  _ Even the ones out on assignment, even the ones currently  _ undercover _ on assignment.  _ Every single double agent with SHIELD had the stomach flu, and no one else in HYDRA did. _

James was clear that a targeted biological weapon was in play, and since his boss was off doing  _ god knows what and not responding to his text,  _ James knew what he needed to do. He sent the go ahead to his head of communications to start the media leaks, and waited for confirmation, and then he went home. He packed a bag and grabbed his second set of identification he’d had constructed for just this eventuality, and the nine thousand in cash that would be very helpful, indeed. If he could just make it through the next ninety minutes, and James frankly had no doubt that he could, he would be safe, and completely disappeared.

* * *

The All-Mother sat in judgment on the Golden Throne, hearing cases, which she did every morning. One of her maidens discretely signalled to get her attention and Frigga beckoned her forward.

“The Head of Healers has her report on the prisoner,” her handmaiden spoke in a barely audible whisper into her ear. “She said it was particularly delicate, and requests a private audience at your earliest convenience. She said she waits on treatment until that time.”

Frigga did not need to think about it. “I shall meet her in the antechamber presently. Alert me when she has arrived,” the All-Mother said, turning her attention back to the blatant land-grab dispute before her.

Not a half of a bell had passed before the same maiden signalled to get her attention, making a discrete gesture with her eyes toward the antechamber. Frigga called a halt to proceedings until the next bell, and went to attend to the strange matter of her son and daughter’s assassin, whom her Head of Guard seemed unaware she was destined to love.

Whenever Loki was involved, the weavings were very strange, indeed. It had ever been thus.

Frete, the Head of the Royal House of Healers, bowed deeply when Frigga entered the room. Frigga smiled, despite the situation, genuinely happy to see a friend. She put Gungnir in her stand by the door and walked forward with her hands extended. 

“Come my friend, and tell me what is going on with _ our strange guest _ .”

They sat down side by side and Frigga heard the strange tale of the stranger man, currently held within the cradle of the Soul Forge. His memories were half missing. His mind was half feral. His body was gruesomely tortured and deformed. His soul had jagged holes and dark, festering malignancies. This was no minor healing. It would take significant time and significant effort, and if he was a prisoner destined for the axe, it was better for her healers to know now, and save themselves the agony of becoming too attached to him.

_ If he was a prisoner destined for the axe. _

A normal question, perhaps, for the Head of Healers to ask the Regent, and a normal question to be answered clearly and decisively by the Regent. Before Frigga was Regent, however, she was Seer. The former was not likely to drive her mad if she answered inappropriately, but the latter certainly would.

Even as she weighed the possibility of answering, Frigga felt the tendrils of madness begin to creep inside her mind, on the periphery of her vision. It wasn’t as if she truly had a strong intention to tell Frete what she wished to know, but she had, for the briefest of moments, considered it. 

Frigga took a deep breath and pushed the madness back. She would say nothing of what was to come. She wouldn’t.

She closed her eyes and willed the madness to abate. She considered what sort of answer she  _ could  _ give.

“I cannot tell what will happen should he come before me in judgment. But I will say that I myself have no current plans to bring him before the judgment seat. I say nothing of the will of others to do the same. I have asked you to offer him whatever avenues to health are possible, and I still wish you to do so. I have compassion for your healers in their difficult situation, but I cannot alleviate their burden.”

Frete nodded and sat in silence for a long moment. “I shall say that he is destined for the axe, then, with a chance of a reprieve, but no guarantee. It will be better for them, I think. What hope they harbor will be tempered by reason. Better for them to be happily surprised by his life than sadly by his death.”

Frigga nodded. “Perhaps that is best,” she commented noncommittally, feeling the madness recede finally and completely.

Frete took her leave and Frigga remained seated in the antechamber of the throne room, following her breath and dwelling in her calm center. It was much easier this time than the last, so many centuries ago, when she had lost her composure so completely. This time she was utterly calm and peaceful by the third breath, and every breath after was full of the luxurious peace so familiar to mistresses of the Ninth Gate.

She stayed there until the next bell rang, but a gentle chime in the antechamber, and she recalled herself to her duties on the Golden Throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, ho! If anyone reading this would like to be a prereader for my other works I'm editing for publication, drop me a line at revsarey at gmail.com.


	13. Wherein there are some really hot shoes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Princess Darcy sneaks up on SHIELD agents, after which the obvious occurs. And Jane assumes spherical cows in a frictionless vacuum, which is not the sign of mental illness you might imagine. Also, Loki continues to be a saucepot, even when unconscious.

The phone rang four times, and then the call went to voicemail. _“You’ve reached my voicemail,”_ declared a mischievous and familiar voice with a British accent it didn’t deserve. You could hear the smirk in that voice. _“And you have one minute to convince me to return your call. Go!”_

Fury took an even breath in, and an even breath out. “We have matters to discuss. I’ll be with you in an hour.”

He hung up and stared at the darkened interior of the Quinjet. Sunny Day was rolling out smoothly, as was Bait and Switch. He glanced down at the titanium briefcase at his feet.

What had they nearly done? Was it truly as dangerous as the Crown Prince made it out to be? He would have every reason to exaggerate the dangers, if his motives were as stated. Also, Fury realized, and not for the first time, if his motives weren’t. Still, the chance that he was telling the truth was too much of a risk. Fury wouldn’t have given it up to anyone else, not with the chance that it could fall into enemy hands, but he could live with the idea that no one at all would get to use it.

His phone vibrated and he unlocked it and looked at it. A text from Hawkeye. _“Trap sprung and reset. Mouse is under arrest. Was Level 13. Anyone you know?”_

Fury’s outer demeanor betrayed nothing at all. He himself was Level 11. The body of the Council was Level 12. The head of the Council, and only the head, was Level 13. Should he have been surprised? Probably not. Was he?

He wanted to say no, but the Director had a policy of not lying to himself.

_“Acknowledged.”_

Suddenly, the otherwise ridiculous level of caution he had instructed Hawkeye and the rest of his team to take seemed much less ridiculous.

His phone didn’t vibrate as the call came in. It was still unlocked and he was looking at the screen. The notification popped up. Apparently he’d been convincing enough for a return call. Just as well. Fury had zero desire to know anything else about the sex life of the Ambassador and his wife.

He answered the phone with a touch and held it up to his face. “Thank you for returning my call,” he began politely, and watched the Widow’s manicured brow rise, just before she herself did, retreating to the pilot’s cabin. It was a nod to privacy that he appreciated.

“Loki is currently unavailable,” a somewhat familiar voice said. A woman’s voice. Fury considered that in the entire time he’d been in their apartment, Darcy of Asgard, nee Lewis, had only ordered room service, and beyond that hadn’t said a single word. “If you tell me the purpose of your visit, I can let you know if you’re wasting your time.”

Another deep breath. _The shit he did to keep this world safe_.

“And when is His Highness likely to be available again?” He could not, sadly, keep the incredulity out of his voice. Granted, he wasn’t trying as hard as the situation merited.

A pause. Good. She should be thinking before she speaks. “That’s need to know information. You haven’t proven that you need to know, and I’m not clear about the security of this line.”

Princess had potential, and Fury liked her a tiny bit more in that moment.

“I’m fulfilling a portion of our agreement. A portion that needs to be fulfilled immediately.”

“Huh.” Another pause. “Protection or disposal?” she asked, wisely referring obliquely to two of the more urgent of Mischief’s requests.

“Both,” he confirmed.

“Huh.” Another pause. “Well, no time like the present. Thanks for being speedy-quick. See you when you get here, and don’t forget to knock.”

Fury hung up, stowed his phone in a pocket and pocketed too, his growing respect for Princess. After a moment of thought he pulled the phone out, because there would be no others, and he would just as soon Hawk not waste his time.

_“Wrap it up and clear out.”_

A moment later he got the response. _“Roger that. Wrinkle: Mouse’s shoe detonated when we took it off. Sorry, boss. He’s an ex-mouse, now.”_

_Shit._

* * *

Darcy sat on the bed and tried again.

“Babe,” she said softly. “Babe, I really need you to wake up, for, like, three minutes.”

Nothing.

She shook him. She poked him. She gave him the first ninety seconds of a handjob.

Nothing.

She yelled in his ear. She sat and tried to meditate, and yelled at him telepathically.

Nothing.

She flopped down next to him, having given up entirely. Darcy tried to calm her breathing and her emotions. In and out. In and out. In and out. She still had forty-five minutes to figure out what to do.

She decided to take a shower. It was Saturday night, and frankly Darcy couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d taken a shower. Friday? Maybe? Before that? It was hard to tell. _No, wait. It was Sunday night..._

It happened when she was shampooing her hair. There was something so incredibly relaxing about scrubbing her scalp, massaging it with her fingertips in the warm water.

_“Go. Take Thor with you.”_

It was Loki’s voice, and it was inside her head.

_Loki, ohmigod, are you finally awake?_

Nothing. No response. It was only when soap threatened to drip down her face that Darcy realized she’d stopped mid-scrub. She continued with her hair, even as she tried raise her husband on the Subtext Frequency.

_Loki? Loki? Dammit, man, respond!_

Nothing. No response.

It’s possible that she just imagined it. But what if she didn’t? She knew what Loki wanted: bodyguards and the tessarak-thing-whatever-the-hell-it-was to be tossed in the deepest bit of the ocean. At some point last night Darcy had Googled the Mariana Trench to find out where the hell it was actually located. North of Australia. Which is to say, not actually close to where they were. Approximately 3,788 miles from their current location. Which would be about a seven hour trip. It would be like flying from JFK to Berlin.

Darcy continued her shower as she thought about what she could be doing on the plane trip there and back. Sleep, obviously. But if she could concentrate, there was always the possibility of working on the first drafts of the article or the opinion piece. It had to happen, and the sooner, the better.

 _But how hard could it be?_ she considered, her mind skipping around and back to the idea of dropping a hazardous and sentient thing in the ocean.   _One imagines you fly low, open a door, toss it out… and then you’re done, right?_

An image of a mobster from a movie saying something about cement shoes rose in Darcy’s brain.

Weights. They’d need something to weigh it down. Just in case. And maybe possibly camouflage it because the whole point was that someone was going to eventually come looking for the silly thing.

...Ocean currents. What about ocean currents? Was Google going to be able to handle this, or was she going to have to resort to Reddit?

Darcy made it a quick shower after all, and after ten minutes of web searching that only lead her to really interesting sites that _did not at all answer her question,_ she called Jane. Twenty minutes later she had surface coordinates that should work if, as Jane strangely said, _we can assume a spherical cow in a frictionless vacuum._

Darcy blinked. _Roger that, Space Cadet. The kitten flies at midnight. Over,_ she thought. After the requisite moment of silence, Darcy instead said, “Jane, honey, you feeling okay? Has this all been too stressful for you?”

Jane snorted. “You’re the one having the stressful time. I’m just lending support over here. Are you referring to the spherical cow thing? Because I swear that’s a normal assumption. It’s just, you know, a reference to the fact that in these cases we have to make certain assumptions that lead to pretty accurate calculations, but that, in fact, will never occur exactly as predicted.”

“Because there’s no such thing as a spherical cow,” Darcy deadpanned.

“Exactly!” Jane said. “So, what you need to do is be careful that your object is as heavy as possible and ideally, spherical, or at least in a case or shell like that. Just so it can get past the surface current. By the time the pressure crumples it into a shadow of its former self the surface current won’t be an issue. That area - I’m having you put it down in the deepest bit, by the way, the Challenger Deep - it’s also in the place with the swiftest surface current, but still we’re only talking five miles an hour, and the trench is sixty-five miles wide, and the current is at most a thousand feet deep. Probably way less than 500 feet, though. Spherical cow. Anyway, put it down at that location and you’ll be fine. But make sure it’s dense. And by that I mean hella heavy. And if possible, spherical. Do I get to know what you’re dropping in the ocean, by the way?”

“Yeah, no. Sorry. But later you can thank me for saving the planet from certain annihilation. I mean, you know, it was really Loki’s idea, but guess who gets to do the follow-through? That would be me. And Mom worried that I’d never follow in the family footsteps and save the world. I mean, _really_ ,” Darcy pointed out, her voice full of cynicism she almost but not quite felt. “Huh,” she said aloud, without really meaning to. Her brain had sidled up to the next issue at hand.

“What’s up?” Jane asked.

“Well... considering that I’m going to be saving Midgard’s ass on behalf of the Royal House of Asgard, I thought that maybe I should look the part. You know, not show up in jeans, kind of thing. And I have fifteen minutes to make my choice. And to choose pieces I can put on by myself, because there’s no way I’m asking Thor for help, you know?”

“Oh, hold on. I’m coming over,” Jane said. “Okay, I’m in your living room. Hi, Thor, no I’m still talking to Darcy. Yes, I know she’s in the other room. Sometimes this is what we do with our advanced technology. I’ll introduce you to cat videos when you come back.”

“I’m hanging up on you, Jane. Come on in, I’m still in my bathrobe,” Darcy said, hanging up and putting her phone on her table next to her trunk, which was open.

* * *

Agent Romanov sat in the car, waiting. The driver was also waiting, but it could not be said that Romanov was waiting with him. As always, she was alone.

In a crowd, she was alone. In a meeting, she was alone. On assignment with others, she was alone.

If the Red Room taught her anything at all it was that she could depend on no one but herself, that _alone_ was always the safest way.

Really, it was only with Clint that she ever felt _not_ alone.

It wasn’t love, she didn’t think. Natasha wasn’t sure she was capable of love, which she sometimes scorned and sometimes yearned for. That part of herself was broken many years ago. But there was something there that was more than friendship, more than sex, more than a debt, and less than the love she would never be able to give.

Natasha honestly didn’t know where Clint would end up at the end of all this shuffling, but she would do everything she could to make sure their paths crossed. He was, after all, the one person in this world with whom she didn’t feel alone.

She considered their options as she waited. Fury had offered her a place in the Avengers Initiative. She hadn’t accepted yet. Fury was also offering her as a gift to the Asgardian Ambassador. She hadn’t said yes to that, yet, either. And soon the choice wouldn’t be his, as either way she wouldn’t be in Fury’s employ. What she didn’t know was where Clint was, what he had been offered. And this time, there would be no more knocking on his door with a bottle of vodka in her hand to find out.

Natasha fingered the golden arrow on a golden chain around her neck. A birthday present from three years ago. It was frivolous. Her trainers at Red Room would be appalled. It screamed her true loyalty to anyone who had eyes to see. But she was far away from Red Room now, far enough, perhaps, that it didn’t matter anymore. And perhaps all the things she _could_ put behind her from that experience, she _should_ put behind her.

She sighed as she considered Clint. Soft, quiet, Clint, who was as hard as his carbon fiber bow, beneath it all. Three years ago he was going to get a tattoo, a little black widow spider somewhere on his body. Somewhere reasonably hidden, as it was against SHIELD policy for field agents to increase their distinguishing features while on active duty. She forbade him. Told him she’d never have sex with him again.

Because it was against policy, of course. That was the reason, the only reason. And not at all because she knew he wasn’t quite as broken as her and was still, maybe, capable of love.

Natasha considered that now, now she might lose him. And if away from her for too long, might he not find someone less broken than her to love?

She pulled out her phone before she had time to think better of it and did the most insane thing she’d done since she took her assassin’s compassionate word over her own instinct all those years ago.

_“Hey. You owe me a tattoo. Three inches. Left front shoulder.”_

He responded back four minutes later.

_“Knew you’d come around. How about tomorrow? Come with and we’ll get some lunch out? Just finishing up over here.”_

Natasha silently considered her answer.

_“No, but I’ll call later tonight when I’m able. Everything’s changing. I don’t want to lose you in the whirlwind.”_

Ten minutes later came his response, which meant that he’d been suddenly distracted, or that he had agonized over declarations of love again.

_“Nat, you’ll only lose me if you want me gone. Look forward to the call.”_

Her shoulders relaxed slightly. Good. He hadn’t poured his heart out again. Because if he had, she might have been tempted to respond in kind, and Natasha wasn’t sure what would happen, then, but it somehow scared her more than the nightmares of Red Room.

* * *

Fury knocked politely on the door to the Ambassador’s suite. He noted that there was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ tag hanging on the doorknob. He ignored it, of course. The peephole in the door darkened as he looked at it and his face did not change.

“One moment, please,” the same voice from the phone called softly through the door and then Fury had a sense that someone was standing behind him. He whirled around and pulled a gun as he did so.

“Really not necessary!” squeaked a young lady in armor and a crown.

Fury lowered his gun slowly, looking around. The corridor was empty. He reholstered it and looked back to the young lady, codename Princess.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” he said. “Got something against the door?”

He watched the half-grin form on her face. “It doesn’t work right now.” She held out her right hand, palm up and he looked down at it, and then back up at her. The question, he was certain, was plainly written on his face. He need say nothing.

“Take my hand and I’ll take you inside,” she said.

This could all be a very convoluted plot. Or even a mildly convoluted plot. Either way, he was putting his life in the hands of this young woman, or whoever might be impersonating her at the moment. But something told him that it could possibly, just possibly be all as it seemed. It was a calculated risk he couldn’t afford not to take.

He took her hand, and it was as if he blinked, but he hadn’t. Suddenly he was six feet to the left and reoriented two hundred and seventy degrees without having moved there himself.

And he was in a room with more people than he’d anticipated, one of whom he didn’t recognize.

Princess was doing the introductions, Dr. Foster and an Asgardian bodyguard who certainly looked the part, if the large axe leaning against his chair was any indication. The person Fury did not, pointedly, see was the Crown Prince himself.

“Dr. Foster has calculated the best coordinates from which to drop the item. Is it in there?” Princess asked, indicating the titanium briefcase he’d been holding in his left hand since he left the combined SHIELD-NASA research facility in Colorado.

Fury did not answer her. “May I ask where His Highness _is_? The deal I made, I made with him.”

The room was quiet for a moment and most of the people in the room were looking at Princess. Not the bodyguard, of course. A decent bodyguard, then, because his eyes hadn’t left Fury since he teleported in.

Princess’ head tilted to one side as she regarded the Director closely. Very quietly, and not as informally as she had spoken before, she spoke again.

“You made a deal with my husband and I am acting on his behalf. He was unable to make this meeting. When he next sees you, he may choose to tell you why he was detained.”

So the Princess wasn’t just a pretty face, then. Interesting.

Fury nodded. He could see the girl relax, her shoulders shifting down slightly with her exhalation, beneath the layers of cloth and armor. She was no agent and obviously not used to hiding her emotions, but neither would she back down in a confrontation, at least when she had enough of the right cards.

He walked to a small breakfast table and sat the case down on its side, flipping open the latches and pushing back the lid. He stepped aside to show the room.

“As promised.”

“There’s nothing spherical about this situation,” he heard Dr. Foster mutter. “And it glows. That’s not good. It’s not allowed to glow. I wonder how dense it is,” and then she made to come closer, but Princess shot out an arm and stopped her.

“Is it safe to touch?” the Ambassador’s wife asked.

“No,” Fury answered, looking pointedly at Dr. Foster.

The scientist threw her hands up in the air. “Can I touch the briefcase? Is that allowed?”

“Yes,” Princess said, just as he himself said no.

Fury watched as the older woman’s eyes darted from him, to her friend, and back again. Then she started forward, and that was his confirmation that he had absolutely lost control of this situation and was not likely to get it back again without a fight.

“Yep. Definitely going to need to replace a bunch of this foam with lead. And it absolutely cannot be tossed in by itself. It’s totally not dense enough to sink on its own, and hello, in the eternal darkness of the abyss, it will be glowing. Not okay if you’re actually trying to hide the damn thing.” She turned back to Princess. “Give me a half hour. Forty-five minutes at the most, and I’ll be back with enough lead to sink it seven miles.”

“Thanks, Jane.”

Fury watched as Stargazer disappeared. He looked back at Princess.

“I have a car waiting outside. When you’re ready, we’ll proceed to a waiting jet. I’ll give our pilot the coordinates, and as part of my agreement with your husband, I _will_ watch as you toss it in. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” said Princess, closing the top of the titanium briefcase, though she left the latches undone. She moved back away from it and closer to her bodyguard. “Now, what do you have in terms of protection?”

“Also waiting in the car is _the_ finest agent that SHIELD has. Her name is Natasha Romanov. Her codename has been The Black Widow. She excels in hand-to-hand combat, is proficient with firearms and throwing knives, and she has been genetically modified by another government’s agency to have enhanced reflexes, speed, and healing. Romanov is fluent in six languages and has an IQ of 132. She is well-versed in both strategy and tactics and has done significant undercover work. She is also fully capable of serving as an assistant administratively. Her most recent assignment was as assistant to the CEO of Stark Industries, whoever that was, yesterday.” Princess cracked a smile, but he continued. “I have offered her a position in the Avengers Initiative, but she has not decided, yet.” He paused for a moment and looked at Princess a little more firmly.

“Romanov is my gift to you. There will be others for you and the Ambassador to interview - you’ll be contacted by Agent Hill regarding them. I certainly I don’t expect your contract negotiations with Romanov to be pretty, but she’s the best there is. As long as she wishes to stay with you, you won’t find better on this planet.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, obviously impressed. “Will you call her up, please? I would like to speak with her alone. We’ll come down to the car when Jane’s finished making it sinkable,” she said, nodding to the briefcase.

Fury nodded, glad to be returning in the car. Certainly he would be able to check in with Hill in privacy. Also, it was exceedingly unnerving to be in a room he could, possibly, not be able to exit on his own. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it, and sent the message that was already written.

_“Now.”_

He took Princess’ hand and was teleported just outside the suite and into the hallway.

“See you in a few,” she said and disappeared.

Fury shook his head, sighed, and walked down the hallway and past the elevator to the stairs, wrapping his head around his changing world.

* * *

Natasha walked out of the elevator and approached the door. There was no one in the hallway and all was silent, at least on the surface. She had no reason to assume an ambush, except that if she was wanted on such short notice as a bodyguard it was probably for a very good reason. All the same, she placed the small black duffle bag on the ground before she knocked. It contained some tech, a change of clothes, and a lot of ammunition, plus five thousand in cash, and four different passports. Romanov was very good at travelling light, and she hadn’t yet decided if she was going to stay here for very long. If she decided to stay, _then_ she’d have her personal items, such as they were, shipped.

The peephole darkened and Romanov wondered just how many bad habits the royal couple _had_ and how possible it would be to break the two royals of them all. Regardless, it couldn’t be worse than working for Tony Stark who seemed to be comprised entirely, right down to the core, of a collection of very high functioning bad habits.

“We’ll be right with you,” a high-pitched woman’s voice called out through the door, and another red flag was thrown in Romanov’s mind. She was alert before, but even more so, now.

And then she was down and spinning, because they’d gotten the drop on her after all, and she had the biggest one down, her thighs wrapped around his neck, a gun to his head, even as she could feel his knife begin to pierce her shirt and her skin, not deep enough to leave a scar on her abdomen, but deep enough to send a message.

“You’re hired,” she heard the other one say, and Natasha glanced over, not wavering with her body or her gun any more than the straining neanderthal between her legs was wavering with his knife. The speaker was wearing... a crown. And metal plate armor. And a dress. But she hadn’t opened the door. Mischief, Princess, and Stargazer could all teleport, she remembered from Fury’s debriefing. Natasha knew it, but hadn’t even begun imagining that she would teleport _rather than open the door._

Natasha could honestly not decide whether it was ludicrously insane or perfectly brilliant.

“Princess Darcy, I presume?” she asked, her thighs clenching a bit more, but not enough to break his neck or completely cut off his flow of oxygen.

“You presume correctly,” said the royal figure, her detached image somewhat ruined by her arms which were now crossed over her chest in annoyance. “Now, both of you, knock it off or I will leave you in this hallway. Seriously. Drop your weapons. That includes the legs.”

The big guy grunted as she released her hold on him, spinning away from him and into a crouch, just in case.

Natasha watched, still in a crouch, as the other one sprung lightly to his feet and stood partially obscuring the Princess, but still facing the most dangerous object in the hallway - herself. “My sincerest apologies, my lady.” Somehow, Romanov knew he wasn’t talking to her.

“Meh,” the woman standing responded. “S’okay. Don’t worry about it, big guy,” Princess said, clapping him on his oversized shoulder. “Better you than me, you know? Anyway, let’s bring this party inside for the not-actually-an-interview-because-she’s-already-hired-but-I-still-have-questions conversation.”

She left her hand on his shoulder and extended the other out, waiting. Natasha just looked at it, and then up to her. Then back to the hand. Then back to the face of the Princess. She raised an eyebrow. _Really? They weren’t going to be using the door at all? What was this, Show Off Your Superpower Day?_

“Ms. Romanov, if you’ll take my hand, we can all go inside.”

Natasha slowly rose from her crouch, keeping her eyes trained on Princess. On the surface, it would seem like the muscle-bound male was the one to track, but something in her gut said that Princess would ultimately be more dangerous. Fury would have disagreed, but Fury wasn’t here right now.

Natasha walked two paces and crouched once more, this time to retrieve her black duffle with her left hand. Eyes still on the princess, part of her mind was devoted to the question of what possible danger Darcy of Asgard could pose to her, and she was coming up with nothing at all. The rest of her mind was focused and alert, because her internal warning system _did not lie._

When she touched the soft, warm palm of the Princess and watched her eyes gently close, Natasha felt utterly torn between two warring realities: wariness in the face of unavoidable danger, and the incomprehensible and not-entirely-familiar urge to protect something innocent and pure.

* * *

Darcy sat down with the world’s best assassin and the millennia-old Asgardian she’d just wiped the floor with. She tried desperately to organize her thoughts. How do you interview a bodyguard? How did she interview for her Agardian bodyguard? What are the pertinent questions, again? What would Loki do? What about salary? _Oh, boy…_

“Hi. So. Talk to me about the Avenger’s Initiative that you haven’t said yes or no to, yet.” It wasn’t where her brain and instructed her to start, but, whatever.

“It’s one of Fury’s pet projects,” Natasha Romanov replied, calmly. “The best of the best, occasionally called together to do some teamwork when teamwork is needed.”

Actually, Darcy already knew that.

“And if you do take this job and stay with us, is that something you can see yourself doing?”

“Possibly, yes.”

 _Ooookay_. “And when do you imagine you’ll make your decision?”

“Soon.”

_Right. So, that clear up nothing. Next question, next question, next question…_

“If you work for us, are you still going to be reporting to Director Fury?”

“No.”

And, Darcy had _no idea at all_ if she was lying. Shit, she was bad at this.

“How much do you know about my husband?”

“Crown Prince of Asgard,” Natasha began, “has mastery over lies, mischief, chaos, and sorcery, is known to have abilities with illusions, telepathy, teleportation, and is skilled at hand-to-hand combat and the use of various medieval and modern weapons, notably _not_ firearms. Ambassador to Earth, recently married to you. No children. No siblings. Parents are ruling monarchs of Asgard, a planet 12 lightyears away. Has command of limited interplanetary travel, _says_ he comes in peace.”

Darcy blinked. “Yeah, okay. Close enough.” She paused to take a deep breath and figure out what and how much to say next.

“Do you, in fact, _want_ to work for us?”

Darcy watched as Natasha blinked and hesitated. Finally, the assassin in black spoke, “I have a friend I would like you to interview. He has a similar skill set to mine.”

“Okay. That’s not a problem. Lord knows we’re hiring.” Darcy said, though she was not deterred. “What else?”

“We’ll need to discuss my employment package.”

Darcy nodded. “We can do that when my husband is present, but I can tell you now, the healthcare is stunning.”

“And I’d like to be apprised of the current threat level against you.”

Darcy nodded. “I have no idea what’s normal for someone like me, but we did have our first assassination attempt yesterday.” Darcy watched Natasha Romanov’s eyes flicker _something_ before her face resumed its resting position, somewhere between Bored and Beautiful And I Know It.

“So,” Darcy began again, attempting to clarify, “just for now I’d say we’re somewhere between ‘Meh’, and ‘Oh, Shit’. Which brings me to your first assignment, if you’ve decided that you do, in fact, want to work for us.”

Darcy paused, waiting for some kind of something from the assassin-who-was-gifted-like-a-bottle-of-wine.

“Yes,” Ms. Romanov said softly, “I think I do.”

Darcy nodded. “I’ll figure out the paperwork and we’ll have that discussion about salary and benefits once this current crisis is over. In the meantime,” she paused for another deep breath. It was surprisingly difficult to say anything about Loki’s current condition, much less leave him even in Ms. Romanov’s capable hands. “My husband has exhausted himself and will be sleeping for the next while. He is likely to wake up occasionally. There’s food in the mini-fridge and Jane will come and bring more, and for you, too, while we’re gone. Meanwhile, the windows and doors are sealed. Sorry about that.”

The woman in the opposite chair nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but just then, Darcy’s wrist itched and tingled like crazy. She went to scratch it only to realize that it was Frigga’s _token_ that was itching and tingling. Oh. _Oh._

“Hold that thought,” she said to Ms. Romanov. Darcy glanced over to Thor who had been quietly sitting and observing the proceedings. She showed him her wrist. “This mean what I think it does?”

“Dost your token feel uncomfortable, my lady?” Thor said, standing.

Darcy nodded.

“Aye, the All-Mother cometh.”

_Oh, shit. What now?_

* * *

Frigga was at her weaving when the report from the healers came in regarding the Winter Soldier. She continued to weave as she listened, having already dismissed her ladies, except for Svanhild. The All-Mother bade the young healer to give her report.

“The patient is healing well physically, but slowly. He has requested that his armored arm not be altered, and unless you bid otherwise, we were prepared to abide by his wishes. His…” And here the young healer faltered in her speech and blushed crimson. Frigga could hear her swallow, and she already knew the reason why. The soldier’s mutilation was extreme, and in her opinion, utterly barbaric. “His genitalia is growing back well, but his digestive essence is missing, and Mistress Frete says that it would be best replaced by a Midgardian version of the same. His magical and mental healing has not yet been addressed, as you know, but the issue of his digestive essence is important and Mistress Frete wishes for a resolution by morning, if possible, and looks to you for aid.”

Frigga nodded her assent and wondered just how charitably Darcy looked upon her assassin, and if she would be willing to help, if she could. Did Midgardians even know about the digestive essence? That which thrives within and allows to be digested the majority of the food eaten? Frigga did not hold out a particularly large hope, but it was worth looking into.

The young healer left and Frigga looked to Svanhild for a wordless moment. She could say nothing to the point, so she said nothing at all, and instead closed her eyes. Frigga sent a pulse of awareness through to the token on Darcy’s wrist and then counted to thirty very slowly.

* * *

Natasha rose as well, as everyone else in the room was standing. And the ‘All-Mother’ was… the Queen of Asgard, perhaps? Or maybe the prince’s grandmother? Was she teleporting in directly from the other planet? Or a closer location? Or maybe she wasn’t a friendly at all?

“Is this something I need to be worried about?” Romanov asked, quietly unholstering one of her guns.

“Nope, we’re perfectly safe. It’s cool. Just have to talk to my mother-in-law.”

 _Queen of Asgard it was, then_ , Natasha thought, reholstering her gun.

“Would you prefer I step away?” Natasha was fully willing to at least offer the illusion of privacy, even if she would be very carefully following every word, just in case there was something pertinent to her situation. She did not at all rely on the Princess to tell her everything she needed to know, or to even realize _what_ Natasha needed to know.

“Mmm, not necessarily, but maybe. I’ll keep you posted,” the woman said, taking visible deep breaths. She turned to the man and addressed him. “You don’t think anything’s gone wrong, do you?”

“With Asgard?” he asked, the disbelief clear in his voice. “No, my lady. With the Winter Soldier...”

And here Natasha reacted, her face expressing her shock, before she could create a look of vague interest. She castigated herself once, briefly, and then moved on. _The Winter Soldier attempted assassination and was stopped? By this lot?_ Either she was wrong in her assumptions about them, which was unlikely, or she needed to increase everyone’s personal threat level by an order of magnitude. Perhaps this was what had exhausted the Crown Prince. That would make sense.

After only a tiny pause, and clearly registering her own reaction, the hulking blond man continued, “Perhaps he hath remembered ought. Though I imagine it would need to be important to-”

There was another woman in the room, quite suddenly, and the bodyguard cut himself off, placing his right fist over his chest and sinking down to one knee. She was a tall figure, dressed much like the Princess, minus the crown.

“My children,” the newcomer said, and her voice was like a sip of expensive vodka - warming, welcoming, and with the potential to knock you on your ass if you weren’t careful.

Natasha noted that as soon as he was addressed, Blondie stood up straight with his hands at his sides.

Mama bear looked at the princess and addressed her. “I hope my timing is not too inconvenient, but I have a strange question which, if you are able to answer, may take some time to gather what is needed, and time, I am given to understand, is of the essence. But first you should know, the one you sent to us requires extensive healing in body, mind, and soul. I will not consent to a trial until his healing is finished.”

Princess was nodding, and Natasha reasoned that they _had_ to be talking about the infamous Winter Soldier who had apparently had his very first _unsuccessful_ assassination. Natasha looked at the princess’s bodyguard with new respect for his duly increased threat-level.

“They did not feed him in the normal way - do not ask me for details for it is the most gruesome and barbaric example of torture I have chanced upon in four hundred decades. But there is something we require from Midgard. There is a thing we call the digestive essence. In normal, healthy people it abides within them and aids the digestion of most every food that is eaten. It abides within a person, but it is not _of_ him, you see, and this young man has none. Do you know of what I speak?”

“Ooo, pop quiz,” Princess said, but then seemed to be deep in thought.

To Natasha’s mind, it wasn’t much of a riddle. She cleared her throat. And then everyone was looking at her. “If I may?” she asked, looking at Princess Darcy.

The Princess nodded, and Natasha continued, looking between the Princess and the Queen. “Probiotics. You need probiotics. It sounds like you’re describing gut bacteria, which would die off if a person is fed intravenously for too long. Or has had antibiotics, for that matter.”

Realization was clearly dawning on Princess’s face. “That would make perfect sense, yeah. Think it comes in prescription strength?”

Natasha shook her head. “Though it sounds like he needs more than he can get just by eating yogurt or kimchee. I think you could find pretty high doses in pill form in any drug store, though.”

The Princess nodded and looked back to the Queen. “If we can get it to you in two or three hours, is that okay? There’s kind of some stuff going on here.”

Natasha watched as the Queen radiated what seemed like quiet joy. She wondered if it was a mask, or just an alien thing. No one could possibly, really, _actually_ be that happy about finding a solution to the medical ills of the man who just tried to kill off members of your family.

“That would be excellent, my dear. And Loki is well? Still sleeping, I presume?”

Princess Darcy was nodding.

“To be expected. Fear not, my sweet girl, all shall be well. Is there aught you need?”

Natasha watched as Darcy considered the question. Finally the young woman spoke. “Has he remembered anything?”

Again with the peace, love, and apricots vibe. It had to be an alien thing, probably to put people at ease before they conquer your planet. Or maybe it had to do with the monarchy specifically, because the bodyguard sure didn’t have it. Natasha wondered what the Crown Prince would be like, when he was finally conscious.

“Not that he has mentioned to anyone, but I am sure with his health, memories will also return. I suppose you have already considered that they will not all be pleasant?”

Natasha watched the Princess nod and the conversation conclude. Then they three were alone, again.

When the Princess had sat down, Natasha, too, returned to her seat, and Blondie continued to be wary and on guard. She’d have to do something about that later, if they were going to be working together. Seducing him was probably out of the question, particularly if Clint were going to _also_ be present, but Natasha had a whole host of persuasive skills. She would find one to fit this situation, just like all of the others in the past.

“Right. So. Where were we?” the Princess asked, turning toward Natasha and looking inquisitive. Almost immediately she turned her head to Blondie and spoke to him, “Remind me to tell Jane about the probiotics,” and then her attention was back to Natasha.

“How did you manage to avoid being killed by the Winter Soldier?” Natasha decided to ask. The answer would settle several questions in her mind, or so she hoped.

“Bashed him on the head. Negotiated a complete surrender and info dump,” the Princess replied.

“And that’s what exhausted the Crown Prince?” Natasha asked.

Princess shook her head. “He was already down for the count, though I think he knew it was coming. Hence the doors and windows.”

“You did this?” Natasha clarified calmly, keeping the utter incredulity out of her voice.

“My lady did,” Blondie confirmed before the Princess could even open her mouth.

Natasha sat quietly for a moment, increasing the threat level of the innocuous-looking Princess and her bodybuilding bodyguard by another two orders of magnitude.

“And he’s not dead yet,” Natasha finally stated, as he obviously wasn’t, even though he really ought to be.

“What is it with you people and _killing_? Am I really the only person in this room who thinks that acting on the desire to kill someone is _genuinely_ a sign of mental illness?” Princess looked back and forth between Blondie and Natasha, three times. “I am, aren’t I? _God,_ I can’t wait for Loki to wake up.”

Natasha was struck by her utter naivete, but decided to go for conciliatory instead. “In a broken world, sometimes you need a broken person to get the job done.”

“Since I’ve just employed you to keep people from killing me, I suppose I’ll have to concede your point. I do, however, have an extremely strong preference for other people to not be killed while you do your job. And since you no longer work for the Men in Black who can just cover that shit up, I’m sure you’ll see the wisdom in my desire. Right?”

Natasha decided that this was not the place, nor the time, to discuss killing in self-defence. She nodded, instead.

Natasha watched as the Princess took a deep inhale and exhale.

“Who was pulling the Winter Soldier’s strings? Did he tell you?” Natasha decided to ask next.

The newly minted royal nodded. “Hydra. You know ‘em?”

“By reputation,” Natasha replied. “I thought they were disbanded.”

The Princess just shook her head.

That HYDRA was operational was a shock. That HYDRA had control over the Winter Soldier was a second shock that spoke to the depth of their involvement over the years. The Soldier was a genetically modified monstrosity who was at least as old as WWII. So, really, HYDRA had never died. And HYDRA had sent its most elite and deadliest assassin out to kill… Princess Darcy? No. It had to be the entire party, including the elusive Crown Prince. Natasha had no idea _why_ HYDRA had wanted to kill them, and the Princess wasn’t likely to know, either, but Natasha did raise their threat level for the third time, up another two orders of magnitude. If she learned much more… but, no. There probably wasn’t anything else.

Still, Natasha had a much clearer sense of why they might need _her._

Then she stopped, because there was no reason to stop being the person Red Room had formed. That person, after all, was still alive.

_When in a new situation, double all time estimates, triple all ammunition estimates, and quadruple all threat level estimates. Do not make the mistake of underestimation, unless you wish it to be your last decision of any consequence._

Which was why, when there was suddenly a fourth person in the room, Natasha had pulled her gun and tackled the Princess at just the right angle to pull her out of her chair and on to the floor before anyone had time to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There is nothing spherical about this situation," might actually be my favorite line of the entire story so far. I'm not sure. If it's not, I still want it on a t-shirt. What about you? Favorite line?


	14. Wherein women do what they love to do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane tests, Frigga weaves, and Natasha protects. Meanwhile, Erik and Clint plan separately, and about entirely different things. And still, no one knows Bucky’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me? :D

“How did it go?” Erik asked when Jane Foster appeared more or less when he had expected her.

“Whew!” Jane exclaimed, and then bent down to pick up the kitten who had come to greet her. “You know, they’re in a weird situation and I don’t mind helping out at all, really I don’t, I mean, we’re kind of all in this together at this point, but Sweet Baby Jesus and the Holy Family, the new bodyguard they hired means business.”

Erik closed the refrigerator door and offered one of the cold bottles of water to a grateful Jane even as he began walking back to the whiteboard with their theories on it. A bit more small talk, and then it would be time to get back to work. 

“Well, that make sense, doesn’t it? I mean, they already had their first assassination attempt, right?”

Jane snorted. “Yes, of course! But she did threaten to quit on the spot the next time someone friendly just appeared with no notice. So I need to text first, or arrive exactly when I say I will. Which I am determined to remember. Seriously. I’m going to remember this.”

“You’d better, or they’ll be out one bodyguard.”

“Hey, I have her number. I’m going to text in three hours before I bring more food. And she has mine, if she needs anything. It’ll totally be fine. And I will remember.”

“So,” he said, changing the subject. “Darcy the Intern is off to do the secret thing that will save the entire planet?”

Jane nodded, as if this was normal.

“That we don’t get to know about?”

Jane nodded again. “Well, you know, I saw it. And I could make some guesses, but despite the fact that they’d all be wrong, I think maybe even guessing would be dangerous. I’d actually want to check with Loki before I even did that sort of thing out loud, you know?”

Erik did not admit to how much his curiosity was raging. A part of him wanted to push Jane on the subject, get her to describe it so that he could make his guesses, too. Never one to crush natural curiosity, Erik was nevertheless wary for reasons he could not name. After several moments of internal debate, he decided to say nothing on the subject. Instead, he decided to let his curiosity run rampant over the news he’d been listening to when Jane had been gone.

“Have you heard all of this stink that’s been kicking up in the news about SHIELD?”

Jane gave him a look of confusion and shook her head.

“Wasting taxpayer money, bizzare research topics like flying aircraft carriers and super-soldier serums. Oh, and the secret prison full of citizens and foreign nationals who have been held without due process, all sorts of terrible things. Secret line items in the defense budget with no congressional oversight. And it looks like the Oval Office knew all about it. Heads are going to roll, according to Fox News.”

Jane only rolled her eyes in response. “The media in America always plays these sorts of things up. Never trust what you hear on TV.” 

She took a swig of her drink and Selvig shrugged. He was slightly surprised at the changes in his young friend. When he first arrived she was so unbalanced - both overjoyed about the discovery of magic, and thoroughly dismayed at the discovery of fate, and hers in particular. Since then Jane had evened out on both topics and shown an admirable sense of calm in the face of a variety of events over which she had no control. 

It seemed his little Janey was growing up, after all.

“So, what did you come up with?” Jane asked, walking over to the whiteboard and its list with her kitten on her shoulder. “We’re going to be testing it on Pratchett? That’s a fantastic idea!”

There was no way at present they could do a double-blind test, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make a tremulous start on understanding the rules behind the magic items Jane had been given. The most obvious item to test, as it had no restrictions on it as to who could use it, was the cloak.

Oh, the cloak. Erik had been examining it. It did not, objectively, feel different, even though he knew it was different. It was light brown. It was woolen. It was incredibly thin. It was incredibly large, even though it was obviously tailored to fit Jane perfectly - it was a floor length full cloak. It was woven, and the weave was slightly open as to imply it might almost be slightly translucent when worn. As it turned out, it made its wearer slightly translucent.

And so they had begun testing it. All of the tests would be repeated when they could recruit safe test subjects for a double-blind, such as, perhaps, Thor without his magic, or that new bodyguard, or in truth, any of the new staff that Loki deemed appropriate. They would want to test it as widely as possible, without revealing any of the security secrets of Jane or Darcy. But it had already begun, and truly, Erik felt like he had the energy of a four year old.

They were doing such basic science! Nowhere on Earth could another scientist claim to be doing the same, for the first time, on a subject matter so fascinating! The very art of making predictions, observing closely, and throwing out what was not true, that was their bread and butter of the day.

On the whiteboard was the following quote from Jane, as best she could remember from the Queen’s explanation.

_ “Seen but not noticed. Counted in a throng, but not found. Walked around, not run into. Loki has other ways of finding you, even with the cloak on.” _

And then Jane’s own observation from the early morning.

_ “Assassin did not seem to notice elliptical machine was in use.”  _

And beneath that, three categories.

_ “Wearer’s Internal Experience, Test Subject’s Internal Experience, Observer’s Internal Experience” _

And then different trials.

_ “When wearer is test subject, can see self in mirror? Can feel emotions? Can be aware of location of nose? Can take cloak off of own volition?” _

_ “When test subject is cat, can have any experience different from human test subject? Questioning long-standing tradition of cats being slightly psychic. Try: calling to cat, moving position, picking up toy as if to play, opening food container. Look for all behavior deviant from normal. List out normal reactions to all of these, first.” _

_ “When test subject is verified psychic, can have any experience different from standard test subject? Try standard test: chanting test subject’s name three times with increasing volume, walking past, screaming within ten feet, cursing out their parentage, throwing ball past their head, throwing ball at their chest, make a simple meal in the kitchen without cleaning up mess, be counted in a room of six or more other people, point a laser-pointer at wearer’s abdomen before and after pointing a laser-pointer past wearer in each direction, have wearer read a passage from a random book and see if test subject has any awareness at all of the source material afterwards, walk across the room in a straight line with wearer blocking straight line path.” _

_ “When test subject is owner of cloak, is there any difference in experience?” _

_ “When test subject has been test subject multiple times, is there any difference in experience?” _

He had more in mind, but there was no more room on the whiteboard.

It would be much better when they could do double-blind studies, but this was more than sufficient for now. Erik watched as Jane set a timer on her smartphone for three hours and they got to work.

“Where you think we’re going to get a verified psychic who can pass Loki’s muster, I don’t know,” Jane muttered as she fiddled with her gadget.

* * *

Frigga did not often indulge her own whims. Not as such. But recently she had realized that such self-denial did nothing for anyone. And the indulgence of her whims, provided that she treated them lightly and duly released what negativity might be generated, was a form of relaxation that the rigors of state demanded she take.

And so that morning found her not in the throne room, but at her loom. Her attendants would bring her meals, but otherwise leave her to her private meditation. It was a soothing rhythm, the shuttle going back and forth, the changing aspect of the warp and weft.

There was nothing intricate in the weaving, no pattern, no picture, and so it was quick work, but the magic she wove with it was subtle. Memories of joy. Memories of peace. Memories of love. It would hinder nothing, twist nothing, change nothing. It would only, when wrapped around someone for long enough, entice back memories of happiness. It was a thin woolen blanket she wove, simple, soft enough for an infant, large enough for a man.

Because she wove it for him, she could see his fate quite clearly. This was, of course, fully half of her intent.

Nothing of his past could be seen, but that was to be expected. Frigga had always had a somewhat difficult time remembering things clearly, so clear was her vision forward. Memories were not her domain, but she understood they were quite comforting for many others.

His future was not what one might imagine for a prisoner of the Golden Throne.

She wove, and wove, focusing sometimes on the source she crafted and sometimes on the fate it revealed.

Loki would like him. It made perfect sense, attempt at assassination aside, as the man did fall squarely into all three of Loki’s domains.

Darcy already felt somewhat maternal towards him and in the years to come she would fulfill that role more and more for him.

He was, of course, Svanhild’s fated love, but that would not come into full blossom until many a long year had yet passed.

Frigga continued to weave in silence. After a few hours her attendants brought her meal in and she paused to eat in silence on the balcony, savoring each mouthful before eventually returning to the wooden structure across the room.

He would become one of several Midgardians who swore themselves to the service of the Royal Family, and that was interesting indeed. It did not seem like the sort of thing that Odin would allow, but the weaving was never wrong, though sometimes confusing or slightly misleading.

There was still so much pain, so much suffering in store for the tortured young man, and that Frigga held lightly, as lightly as she could. When it upset her unduly she paused from her work and walked across the room. She stood on the balcony and breathed in the fresh scent of the air, a mingling of flowers, the woods beyond, and the river. As she was bathed in the light of the sun she breathed deeply once more and released all of the pain, all of the concern. Three more times and her smile had returned of its own accord.

Returning to her loom and all of the subtle complications in the weaving, all of the indications of hard roads taken and troubles embraced, Frigga reminded herself that it could always be much better than she saw, while rarely was it worse. The young man, after all, had yet made no moral progress that she could discern, and if he did, that would help. And all factors indicated that he would have every opportunity to make such moral progress, if he but chose to do so.

Of course, that was the crux of the situation. Frigga had always hoped that Thor would make such progress of his own accord, and he had categorically failed to do so at every given opportunity.

And yet Loki had taken the other path. More often than not at such an opportunity, he chose well and learned his lessons sooner. Once she had considered that knowing such a desperate vision of his own fate, and at so tender an age would have had the opposite effect on him. Certainly all who wove and could read the signs would, out of pure curiosity, weave for the new princeling. Indeed, Frigga had received many, many, many such blankets for the young prince, and each one told of the same fate. With the reception of each one, her heart broke a tiny bit more. But for someone to have  _ told him...  _

Frigga blinked away the tears that formed and rose once more from her loom to cross over to the balcony. Memories of the anger she felt were strengthened by the anger that rose anew at the very thought that one of her fellow seers had broken the pact, had risked and indeed even embraced madness solely in order to frighten a little boy into - what? Surely no one takes a wise course of action in the midst of fear. She did not like to see the truth, but it had always seemed gravely clear to her. The seer obviously meant to scare her son into suicide and the momentarily murderous impulse that the consideration of that truth brought to Frigga was one she released as quickly as she could.

Really, she thought she was past this. Hadn’t she  _ just _ mastered the ninth gate?

Another deep breath and she was laughing again. No, not yet past, not quite. Nearly, but not quite.

And indeed, something altogether unexpected had come of that horrible moment. Perhaps that seer knew, the one who had embraced madness. Perhaps his intentions were not so heartless. Who is to say if Loki would have been so motivated otherwise? Even her weavings at the time did not reveal the character of the man her son would grow into. They did, of course, show the worst possible outcome of his decisions, but that was to be expected.

After all, a seer knows the future paths, not the future choices.

Frigga returned again to her loom and refocused herself on the young man in her dungeons. She worked quickly now, the majority of the magic already woven in.

His children would make good matches. They would be happier, it seemed, than their father, but that was not surprising. It was the hope of many a parent that their children manage more than themselves, and it was the pride of many a parent that their children did.

Frigga worked in silence, except for the sound of the loom which soothed her like no musician could.

She changed the tone of her weaving, tightening the weft of the next fifty rows, and coming to the top of the cloth. She always liked to begin at the bottom, and end at the top, even though it meant working her designs upside down. There was a symmetry to it that appealed to her immensely.

He would die a good death, some twenty centuries from now and after some respite in the Halls of Valhalla he would return again in his next life. It would be quite brief, but happier. Much happier than this one.

There. Frigga knew his fate. She knew not his name, nor his memories, nor even what mark of man he might be, but she knew he would have just as many opportunities to choose life and joy as anyone else, would he but take them.

And the blanket was done. She would have Svanhild deliver it to him before nightfall.

* * *

Natasha heard movement in the bedroom of the suite. Movement and sounds. Likely, it was her royal and ancient employer having a nightmare, but it might also be the sounds of a botched assassination. Without a single sound she put down the book on Nikola Tesla she’d been skimming and rose from her armchair. She quietly crept toward the door that was open only just a tiny bit. She pulled her pistol and thumbed off the safety, holding it up and at the ready.

Her gut told her that there was only one other person in the suite, and that was why she nudged the door open with her foot rather than slamming it open. When there was nothing else, notably, no bullets, she darted her head out and back again, just enough to get a quick sweep of the darkened room. Still no rounds flew at her head, and if there was a second person in there, they were well hidden. Then Natasha heard the sound again. It was the sound of a body shifting between the sheets, and small, dissatisfied moans. She came in and did a quick sweep of the room, behind doors, in closets, under the bed, in the bathroom, and nothing. They were there alone.

Natasha reholstered her pistol and flicked the lights on. There was a chair near the bed, but far enough away for comfort. She sat in it, her elbows on her knees and staring at the body in bed, clearly in a nightmare, wondering if this was completely normal, or somehow... not. Without at all knowing why, her gut voted for ‘not’.

She took a deep breath and told her unhelpful inner voice to go take a hike. It told her she was no good at things like this, but she’d calmed Clint down often enough when he was having a bad night, and lived to tell the tale, so she couldn’t be entirely terrible at it.

Natasha picked a modulated tone that she liked to think was soothing and cleared her throat quietly. Then she took a deep breath. She chose short phrases that were simple and true and she put all the calm confidence she could behind her quiet, slow words.

“Loki, you are safe. Everything is okay. My name is Natasha and I am going to protect you until you wake up.”

As was her wont with Clint during his own nocturnal nightmares, she imagined a shimmering dome-like forcefield protecting him.

And he quieted.

“You are safe, now, Loki,” she assured him in the same quiet, slow cadence. “Everything is okay.”

Natasha stayed in the bedside chair sitting with her elbows on her knees and repeating a calming phrase every minute for the next thirty-eight minutes, until he woke up.

He was, she had to admit, a very pretty employer.

As he sat up, the sheet pooled at his waist, and for a variety of reasons, Natasha hoped he was wearing pants. He certainly wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Hello,” she said quietly, not sitting up straight, not moving at all. “I’m Natasha Romanov. Your wife hired me as a bodyguard.”

His head swiveled and he stared at her. A solid minute passed in silence.

“How old are you, Black Widow?” he asked, no emotion at all on his face.

Natasha kept hers, no, not carefully blank. Instead she displayed the sort of confusion and shock that any twenty-five year old would have at such an inappropriate question from her employer. Or so she imagined. “Twenty-five,” she lied smoothly, her tone a little offended just for good measure. Meanwhile, she wondered why he had a British accent if he was from a planet twelve lightyears away.

A smile crossed her employer’s face, and it confused Natasha, for it seemed like the sort of genuine smile one would have with a pleasant surprise. “Excellent,” he said, as if he had a particular preference for twenty-five year old bodyguards, or if he was possibly - and this might be a long shot, here - just completely off his nut. “Well,” he continued happily, “thank you for your efforts thus far. Is there food, do you suppose? If you would fetch for me whatever is available, I’d be grateful. I’m certain walking isn’t yet a good idea.” 

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

She heard him giggle and glanced back over her shoulder, but his eyes were closed and he was swaying slightly as he sat in the middle of the bed.

Natasha wasn’t sure at all what to think of him, other than the fact that  _ she  _ wasn’t inclined to marry him on the spot, so it must have been something special that the Princess saw in him, unless it was just the crown. Or maybe the pretty face and accent just did it for her. Natasha didn’t realize until ten minutes later, well after he’d finished inhaling some food and fallen back asleep, that he’d somehow gotten the jump on her.

He’d called her by her codename. How could he have known? She couldn’t answer the question and it left her with a general feeling of uncertainty.

Natasha left the bedroom, got herself some water and sat down again in the outer suite. She checked the time on her cellphone and dialed the number.

“Hey,” she heard, as he picked up the phone.

“Hey.” There were many things Natasha knew how to do, but this wasn’t one of them. She was quiet until he spoke again.

“So. Everything’s changing. What’d they offer you?” His voice was quiet, as usual, and his words came out a muttered jumble. She knew it was because he was mostly deaf without his hearing aids and always afraid of speaking too loudly. He over compensated, and he knew it, and he mostly didn’t care.

“Avengers,” she replied, just as quietly, knowing he could hear. “Haven’t said yes. And permanent bodyguard to the new Ambassador.”

There was a pregnant moment of silence. “Oh, God. Tell me you’re not working for  _ that  _ insane bastard. Not, not…  _ not Loki,”  _ he said, the last on a whisper so faint it was almost inaudible.

A single manicured eyebrow rose, though no one was around to see it. “The one and only,” she confirmed.

He only groaned in response.

“What about you? What’d they offer you?”

He grunted. “Right now I’m on clean up. Not sure what comes after that.”

“If they ask you for an interview here, will you take it?” She wouldn’t beg. She was just sounding him out. She just wanted to know, that’s all.

There was another moment of silence, and it spoke volumes. “Yes,” he said, and left it at that. Until he didn’t. “So you’re with them…  _ permanently?”  _

“Yes,” she replied.

“Why?”

Because the Princess Darcy was as innocent as they came.

Because Natasha didn’t want to go back to a life where right and wrong didn’t matter.

Because even though she’d taken up permanent residence in the grey areas of life, she sometimes yearned for the light, even if she usually didn’t trust it.

Because she was ninety-five years old, and tired of reinventing herself, of passing down the mantle of Black Widow to her heir and successor, only to have to pretend some measure of innocence as she took the mantle back, from herself, again... and maybe she wouldn’t have to if she worked for someone much older than herself.

Because love or no love, if she ever wanted to make a life with Clint in which they both weren’t bored to tears, this seemed like a good opportunity.

Because if the health care was as great as the Princess had said, maybe she would get more than just another twenty years out of Clint Barton before he went and died on her, leaving her alone, again.

“Gut feeling,” she said. It was true, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.

“One day, Nat. One day, I’m gonna understand you. I swear to God, one day it’s gonna happen.”

_ I love you.  _

_ Marry me. _

_ I don’t love you because I can’t love you but if I could love anyone in this world, it would be you. _

_ Don’t leave me. _

“If you live long enough,” she said. It was sarcasm. And it was truth. And it hurt, because he wouldn’t.

“About the tattoo,” he said, his voice suddenly serious as he changed the subject.

“Don’t,” she replied, cutting him off.

“Nat,” he said, a warning tone in his voice that stopped her attempt at control. “We both know what this means. I know you know what this means to me. So cut the bullshit.”

“Okay,” she said quietly, humbled, somehow.

“Marry me.”

“No,” she said, without even thinking.

“ _ Marry me,”  _ he said again. “Natasha Illyana Romanova, marry me. Not because you’re broken, not because you can’t love. Marry me because you don’t want to lose me in the shuffle. Marry me because in a changing world, the thing you know you can’t do without is me. Marry me because there’s a part of you that wants to, and however small that part is, it can grow if you let it. Marry me because this is our chance to do something different and be something different. Marry me because--”

“Okay,” she said, interrupting him. Stunned, because she said it, and now she couldn’t take it back. The only way was forward. It was so much like the moment he’d saved her instead of assassinating her that she was wrapped up tight in the similarities. The rhythmic cadence of his voice somehow reaching into her mind, picking out the tiny fragments of truth she barely even knew existed, and piecing them together to make up a full, persuasive argument.

He said he didn’t know what was in her head, but he did. He did when it counted. He had then, and he did now.

“Where are you?”

“Currently in Dallas. But they teleport  _ a lot.  _ I know the Embassy is due to be in New Mexico, so I assume that’s where I’ll end up, possibly in the blink of an eye.”

“When I’m done here, I’m coming for you. Whatever else they offer me, I choose  _ you.”  _

“Clint, I--”

_ I love you. _

_ I don’t know how to love you. _

_ I am so grateful to you. _

_ I am still afraid you’ll leave and I’ll be alone. _

“It’s okay to say it, Nat,” he whispered, after some time had passed.

The words were caught in her throat. She quite literally  _ couldn’t. _

Finally he spoke.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters until the end of this story, but there will be a sequel! So subscribe to the series to make sure you don't miss anything. Also, I'll be posting an outtake chapter chronicling the beginning of the misbegotten love-affair of Svanhild and her Winter Soldier.


	15. Wherein Thor continues to say nothing at all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally find out what is going on in Thor's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallooo! I hope you are continuing to enjoy this story. I send you greetings from my husband, who has been beta'ing this story and helping me to build this universe all along, and now is building his own (and I get to help!) over in the Harry Potter fandom ([Methods of Rationality](http://hpmor.com) subfandom, so if you're curious, read that first). So, if you're a fan of that sort of thing, I strongly recommend the story he's writing (and we're building): [Hermione Granger & the Price of the Phoenix](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7604113) by linusmir. Either way, this is his first piece of fanfiction ever written and posted, so send him love, yeah? Because love is awesome. :D 
> 
> And now, on to your regularly scheduled chapter!

The lightning was utterly fascinating.

Each type seemed slightly different to him. That which travelled long distances was different from that which was  _ generated  _ and then used immediately, and both were quite different from lightning which had been put into storage for later usage. Each type could converse with the other, but none of the types of lightning recognized that there were any types at all. Each individual bit insisted it was only and ever part of the whole. Except of course, it probably wouldn’t even like that wording. 

Lightning spoke in concepts, not words, and sometimes the concepts were ones that Thor barely understood and could find no words at all to translate, even in any of the languages he knew.

They (It? Lightning still seemed plural to him, but they insisted that they were not) spoke of lightning within each living creature, and Thor could barely believe his ears. Then they, no,  _ it _ taught him how to listen to the quiet whispers in the people around him, and even in his own body. If he clenched a fist, he could hear it, if he focused with all his strength. But he could not hear it when he thought. He simply could not focus on both things. But he could hear it when other people were thinking. Even when people were perfectly still, their bodies still  _ hummed.  _ And hummed, quite generally, with happiness.

Lightning, be it plural or singular, was always happy. But not just happy. The concept conveyed to him when he’d asked about it was bigger than happiness, bigger even than pure joy. It was some mind-boggling combination of deep calm, unbridled joy, and self-adoration. It was bliss, Thor supposed, but like nothing he had ever personally experienced. It was close to how he felt when he was caught up in the bloodlust of battle, but cleaner somehow, as if claiming victory over one’s opponent was sullied by the very need for conflict at all, which was not anything Thor had previously considered.

And apparently, this radiant joy was around everyone, all the time,  _ dancing through their very bodies, _ and in a language he could mostly understand.

How had he never noticed?  _ How? _

_ Because you were too busy to notice something so delicate, something so slight,  _ he realized.

Yes. He had been too busy. Too busy with too many things, few of which truly mattered.

He could see now with a measure of greater clarity, more so than before. He could see so much,  _ now. _

He could see that lightning was not a singular event, to be summoned at his whim. It was alive, somehow, and though it neither ate nor slept, it felt, and thought, it moved, it created, and it was consumed. It rejoiced in its being, and  _ knew  _ that it rejoiced. Truly, why it obeyed him at all was something he was desperately curious about, but afraid at the same time, afraid to inquire. Perhaps by mere inquiry, lightning might somehow be reminded that it did his bidding whenever he asked - or, it had in the past, as Thor was presently too afraid to do anything but converse with it - and it might suddenly decide not to do his bidding ever again.

He could see that he was the Master, not of thunder, but of  _ Lightning.  _ He had learned from his readings on the subject that thunder was simply the noisy consequence of lightning, not as he had always considered, that lightning was the mere vanguard of the mighty thunder. There was nothing mighty about thunder. It was but a sound, and a sound that happened at the same instant of the lightning, but as Midgardians had discovered, images travel to the eye faster than sounds travel to the ear, approximately one mile every second faster. And this held true with thunder and lightning.

Thor could see so much now, that had been hidden from him before, just as the lightning in his muscles had been so slight, so subtle as to be utterly invisible and completely silent to him before, but now seemed so  _ obvious _ . Still subtle, of course, but now utterly distinguishable.

He could see, too, the man his brother had grown into, the man that damnable prophecy had spurned him into becoming. He’d known before, but somehow not been able to understand, not truly. Before, Thor had considered that Loki’s many trips and frequent absences were a device used to fill up the days, much like Thor sought the same, in his own way. He’d known of his brother’s moral progress - Mother always made it very clear how proud of Loki she was, how  _ much _ he had accomplished - but somehow Thor had managed to discount how much effort must have gone into it, how much it had truly changed him, from the Loki he knew so well from boyhood.

His mother and Loki both, he knew, spent hours each day in meditation. Thor was not entirely sure what he had  _ thought  _ they were doing, and he’d never even thought to ask. If he were utterly honest with himself, in the privacy of his own mind, he would have to say that… well… he’d just thought they were being  _ boring.  _ Which was a terrible thing to say about one’s beloved family members, but it was the truth. But if their gifts were anything like his… well, he would happily spend hours ‘meditating’ and in reality, conversing with lightning and learning all he could about it. In truth, he  _ had  _ been spending hours doing just that.

A pang of despair held him briefly in its grip as he considered that when Loki was himself again, all of this exquisite time with the lightning would be over.

* * *

Thor folded himself into the conveyance, wishing he could ask questions. Jane did not seem to mind his questions at all, but he knew that his duty came before his curiosity. Also, Thor was exceedingly wary of having too many unchaperoned conversations with his sister, lest he throw Loki into a rage when he woke.

The door to the conveyance shut with a noise and the three were enclosed in the pod-like carriage that reminded him more of the cramped quarters below deck than anything else. The driver sat in front and apparently already knew their destination, for the man named Fury said nothing at all to him.

He silently watched the exchange between the man and his sister.

“Not bringing Romanov with you?” he asked, and somehow Thor got the impression that he was asking something else, entirely. Of what Fury might be asking, Thor had no idea.

Thor saw it from the corner of his eye, a slow smile blossom on his sister’s lovely face. “No,” she said softly and slowly. When it became clear that she would say no more, Thor restrained his amusement. He could see now that Fury had been indeed asking more that just an innocent question, and his bright little infant sister had handled it beautifully.

It was quiet in the cabin of the conveyance. The jostling was significantly less than in a carriage, but more than in a longboat. Soon, however, Thor was slightly distracted by the sheer quantity of other such conveyances, all going quite quickly, and so many passing in such close proximity. His sister, however, seemed entirely unconcerned by such things, and so he decided to ignore them as much as possible.

Since he could not engage his sister in conversation and it would be inappropriate to do so with Fury, Thor instead kept his outer attention on the man in the cabin with them, and allowed his inner attention to drift to the quiet and subtle language of the lightning in the conveyance and in the bodies of his companions.

All was quiet and joyful. Here with the lightening, no one expected him to act like Loki. Here no one minded that he was loud and boisterous. Here no one minded that he was a simple man with simple pleasures: battle, mead, food, and women. The lightning was a substance with simple joys as well.

Thor’s mind wandered to the memories of youth. Ever had it been; oldest male child, gifted in many things, but always outshone by his quiet, bookish, younger brother. Loki waited while Thor rushed in; and then he did something spectacular that paid in full his cautious stance. Loki watched while Thor sang loudly; never jumping in to correct the new saga, never extolling his place in the part of the adventure, always taking the part of modest humility, ever more making Thor feel like a glory-hogging oaf. Loki studied magic while Thor studied war, and that should have been fine, it should have been laudable, the eldest boy mastering the highest art with such honor, but somehow it wasn’t. It should have been a joke: Loki being the daughter Mother never had, studying the feminine arts and achieving greatness there. What next? Weaving? Sewing? Fruit gathering? But no, it wasn’t like that at all, at least not within the family. How could it be, with Father and Mother both being such sorceresses, even if Mother was better than Father?

When they  _ were  _ together, Loki’s schemes often got them into trouble, but his quick-thinking silvertongue always got them out of it again. But no, long past were the days when even that would occur. Of late they were brothers who shared pleasantries in the hall when one passed the other, or a brief smile and nod at a meal, should they catch the other’s eye from across the room, should they actually be in the same room for the same meal at the same time.

And now, _now_ his annoying little brother, the master sorcer _er_ with the weight of all Ragnarok bearing down on his shoulders, was also the Crown Prince of the Realm Eternal. Not that Father would _ever_ _die_. Between the Odinsleep and other magics, Father could well see Ragnarok and the question of which son would succeed him would remain moot, particularly now with Mother as Regent.

Thor barely caught and restrained himself from expressing his emotions perceptibly while on duty, because damn it! The toad wart had also been holding back during sparring, and that was now quite evident.

And he had presently pushed himself into a state of complete exhaustion, saving thousands of strangers,  _ Midgardians,  _ people who would never know nor appreciate his generosity, nor the life debt they owed to him. And he had to have known that all along. He had worked magic until it began to drain his very life force and continued on still, knowing that if he died his deeds would  _ never be sung, never remembered by those whose very lives he had saved. _

And Loki… Loki the wise, Loki the cunning, Loki who could talk himself out of any situation at all, Loki who would rule from the Golden Throne with moderation and mercy,  _ Loki _ had gotten for himself a beautiful and charming wife who was… well, words failed Thor, even in his mind. He was no silvertongue. But she was obviously both devoted and smitten, and she had intelligence and cunning to match her beauty and charm. 

Thor considered that if one were to shave away the rough edges and add many, many years of experience, his little sister was rather like Mother, for all that there were, of course, differences between the women.

And he, himself, was destined to marry Jane, who liked him not at all. Jane was not quite the sort of woman Thor had busied himself with in the past. Thor had long preferred a bit of height on his woman, a bit of curves, a bit of rough wit, and a large portion of interest in him. Jane had none of these qualities. She was also of Midgard, which could prove a problem in more than one way, taking the long view of their inevitable relationship.

Which only reminded Thor of the utter insanity that either of them could even know their mingled fate. How had it come about?  _ How?  _ There was no way at all he could ask Jane, and while it might just be possible to approach Loki on the subject in the fullness of the perfect time, Thor could not trust completely that he would choose exactly the right words. That was his brother’s ability, not his own. And the wrong words in such a conversation would lead to a similar outcome of the Vanir trade negotiations of 1701, and that was a debacle Thor would not wish on his worst enemy.

And now he was stuck on Midgard until he learned and earned mythical gifts which he knew he could never truly possess, and few would be these days in which he could meditate on his gift which he realized he had never quite mastered after all.

Thor silently admonished himself for his wandering thoughts in the face of such a paucity of time with the lightning - just a few short days! - and focused more acutely on the conversation that flowed joyfully around him. The lightning knew nothing of angst or suffering, and Thor envied it mightily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, only one more chapter to go before book 2 is finished! Never fear, I'm already working on chapter one of book 3, so make sure you've subscribed not just to the story, but also to the series so you know when the next one comes out. Which shouldn't be long. 
> 
> So, tell me: what did you think of your personalized tour of the inside of Thor's head?


	16. Where in the dreamer dreams.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki dreams. But they’re just dreams, right? ...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now. Buckle your seatbelts, friends, and make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their upright and locked positions. Please note that the location of your nearest emergency exit may be behind you. The pilot expects turbulence.
> 
> Loki's nightmares are... _nightmarish._ This is your warning that I did not pull my punches.

He was running through the trees, a little boy, close to the ground, young, but navigating easily between exposed root and nettle bush. The day was clear and bright, and then it wasn’t anymore. The wind whipped at him, gusts pushing him momentarily off balance. Voices carried in the wind, too, calling him names, terrible, horrifying names.

_Usurper._

_Father-killer._

_Bane._

_Mother-killer._

_Tribulation._

_Brother-killer._

_Twisted._

_Tradition-breaker._

_Liesmith._

_Traitor._

_Treacherous son._

_Death harbinger._

_Hopebreaker._

_Asgardbane._

_Monster._

_Bringer of Ragnarok._

_Bringer of Ragnarok._

_Bringer of Ragnarok._

And then he was in the market place on that day, that horrible day that had seemed like such a fine one, before it was ruined. And it was exactly like that day, but like that day he had no awareness that it was anything other than Market Day. And so he relived the day that changed everything, the day  he lost his innocence.

He’d lost Thor at the weapon’s stall long ago, but that was to be expected. Loki wandered, looking at leather goods in one stall, potions in another, always with his hands respectfully held behind his back as he’d been taught. He passed by the fortuneteller’s tent, a plain, but enclosed thing. He had no need of it.

“Boy!” a wisened voice called out from behind him. When Loki turned, the face belonging to the old voice was looking at him. “Come, boy. I’ve no business yet today, and I’ll do your reading for free.” The old one seemed kind, and Loki was not one to shun a kindness offered. Still.

“I thank you kindly for your offer, elder. My parents had my reading done already, sir, when I was but a held infant. So you see, I have no need of your services, but I thank you kindly for offering them all the same.”

Loki went to move off, having come closer to deliver his polite speech, and silently congratulated himself. Had his mother been there, she would have been quite proud of him, he thought. Much better than what Thor would have said, had he been around.

“Ah!” Said the old one, recalling Loki’s attention once more, and politeness required that he turn back again. “But you’re nearly grown! And they haven’t told you, I can tell. Wouldn’t you like to know your past lives? Wouldn’t you like to know the trials you have failed in the past? All too soon we face them again, and it’s good to be prepared, young one. Wouldn’t you like to know what sort of shieldmaiden you’ll be wooing? Wouldn’t you like to know where you’ve gone wrong with her before? Too many parents don’t believe in telling their children everything, and once you get older it’s harder to read you. Best to do it now, while you’re on the cusp. Still a boy, but approaching manhood quickly. Just for you, just for today, I give it to you free. A gift. Would you deny an old man the pleasure of giving a gift, boy?”

Loki was compelled. It was just the sort of thing that his father would say he didn’t need to know the details of, and yet wasn’t it best to know as much as possible? Didn’t Father say that, too? One could never know too much about the enemy, that Loki knew. One could never know too much about the terrain, that he knew, too. Knowledge was good. Seeking knowledge was nothing to be ashamed of.

Loki passed beneath the folds of the tent and was bidden to sit in the middle of three stools before a low table. The elder sat on the other side and handed him a cup.

“Blow in it,” he was instructed, and he did so.

The elder shook the cup and the contents rattled. When they were cast on the table, Loki saw that they were small bones. Finger bones, perhaps, but of what sort of creature or man, he did not know.

The elder regaled him with dire information. His past lifetimes had made little or no moral progress, and what progress they had managed, they had also sacrificed to their own selfish desires. Loki would be starting from scratch in this lifetime, and that was always harder, or so his reading warned him. Many trials would he face, at every level, and nothing would be easy.

Loki wished he were somewhere else. Even being with Thor at the armorer’s stall would be a vast improvement over this dark and gloomy tent with its dark and gloomy elder telling him his life would be terrible and hard. Suddenly Loki understood why a parent might not wish to tell a child every last detail.

When the elder gathered up the bones and placed them back into the cup, Loki rose as if to leave, a polite thanks on his tongue, but the elder interrupted him, shoving the cup toward him.

“Blow in it.”

Loki did so and sat down once more. At least it couldn’t get any worse. All the same, a sense of dread was building and Loki didn’t understand it. He was perfectly safe. What could go wrong? It was Market Day.

The elder shook the cup and the bones rattled, then fell onto the table in a scatter that was meaningless to Loki. The elder made thoughtful noises and began in on the shieldmaiden he was to woo. It was not looking good there, either. She had made no moral progress either, and had many lifetimes yet to live before he was to woo her. That meant, the elder explained, that she was either to die tragically and quite young many times over before they met, or perhaps that she was of a short-lived race. Or both. Or possibly even that Loki himself would be quite old before he met her. Perhaps all three.

Little Loki wondered how this could possibly be deemed useful information.

Again he was rising to leave with the polite words on the tip of his tongue and again the elder shoved the cup toward him, again ordering him to blow on it. But what more was there to tell? Confused, but eager to draw the meeting to an end, Loki blew on the cup and sat back down a third time.

This time the elder also blew on the cup and scattered the bones, and Loki was even more confused. He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew it wasn’t quite right.

In quite a different voice, the elder began to speak. Gone was the kindly old man, gone the market day seller of goods and services, gone the gentle reader of infants. With quick and urgent words that carried little kindness at all, the man across from Loki stared intently at the bones and spoke in a low voice.

_“You are he fated to bring the end of the age. Ragnarok it is called and Bringer of Ragnarok you shall be. Your path is perilous and fraught, Loki of Asgard--”_

He was shocked into stillness and silence, overwhelmed, rooted to the spot, horrified, just like last time, just like every time he dreamed it all over again.

_“Pain, death, lies, and chaos surround you, and yet you will laugh, you will always be laughing, the Laughing Prince of Asgard--”_

How did he- Why did he- Shouldn’t he not be saying- Mother wasn’t allowed to say- Surely this isn’t- But it seems to be real-

_“Slim are your chances and few your opportunities, and reasonable men would not hold out a single hope for you, Laughing Liar of Asgard--”_

What- What- What- What was- What is- What-

 _“Slim are your chances and few your opportunities, and_ I _would not hold out a single hope for you, Chaotic Crown Prince of Asgard--”_

This is when he stood to leave in every dream, when he stood to leave the one time it had occurred, when he was young. Now was when he stood so fast he knocked over the stool, so shocked he could not be polite, and ran from the tent, ran from the Market Day, ran back to the palace, tears streaking down his face, ran to his Mother’s rooms only to have her go wild eyed and silent and run from _him_. Father would come later with soothing words, and it would be years before Loki was truly happy again, even briefly.

Except he couldn’t move. Loki was rooted to the spot. He was rooted to the spot, even though he had already heard the four statements that the old man uttered before Loki ran away. Each time, each dream, he would run away, too. This had been the first time in his life that Loki ran away, but not the last. He would keep running, over and over again. To master magic, true, but also to run away from those aspects of his life he could not control, and finally, running away to Midgard with no intention to return.

Always running away, from this time on, except _this_ time, in this dream Little Loki could not move, could not run, and so he heard what the old man said next.

_“Slim are your chances so take them all, boy. Few your opportunities, so waste none, Loki. I hold this single hope for you, and I spent my mind in its purchase. Prove to them that Ragnarok is not evil, but good; there is a time for all ages to end, and it is nothing to be mourned. Prove to them that lies are more than words that are said or truths to be twisted, but beliefs no longer useful and held too tightly. Prove to them that laughter in the mouth of a Master of the Ninth is never inappropriate, not even in the face of death, not even in the midst of pain. Prove to them that chaotic morals only seem unhealthy when one cannot see through illusions. Prove to them that the dreamer can awaken. Be the dreamer that awakens. Your path is perilous and fraught, but no more so than any other man’s. This is your final lifetime. Use it well. And turn away now, for you must not see what comes next.”_

Little Loki was still rooted to the spot, no longer horrified, but bolstered, and confused that he should turn away.

 _“Turn away, Loki, for you must not see what comes next,”_ the man said, his voice strained and in a higher pitch.

Loki could not move. He could not blink. He could not turn.

_“See, then, but blame not yourself. This I chose, and this price I pay willingly. We all have our fates, Loki of Asgard. This is mine. Forget not yours.”_

And then the elder stabbed himself in the chest, a measured jab from one who knows how to hunt and slaughter animals, and just for a moment the elder’s eyes opened wide and Loki saw the madness in them that wasn’t there before, before the bones, before they sat down.

He fell to the floor, the old one, and then Loki was somewhere else, again, staring at the stars and wondering what he had just forgotten, for he felt he had just forgotten something and that it might have been important.

* * *

Little Loki was running through the forest, playing at the hunt with his brother. They were tracking the wild boar, hunting knives in their belts and courage singing in their veins. It was pure, undiluted joy, and if they ever caught up with the boar, they might actually have a trophy to bring back to Father and Mother.

Fording the stream, and then turning to run down the bank on the other side, they finally caught up with the wild boar. Knives out and yelling like berserkers, the two boys ran toward the annoyed and oncoming boar.

It gored Thor first, tossing him aside, and Loki never saw where the hunting knife ended up. His brother’s screams echoed in his ears as he stood, rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear and horror as the wild boar, blood and viscera dripping off its gruesome tusks, came for him, next.

* * *

Loki was running down the rainbow bridge, towards the Observatory, an important message from the All-Father clutched in his fist. Why Odin hadn’t used one of his ravens to transmit the message to the Gatekeeper, Loki didn’t even consider. His stride was wide and quick - he was running as fast as he ever had in his life, and it should have eaten up the ground, getting him to the Observatory as quick as a horse at a fast trot, but before breaking into a gallop, but the faster Loki ran, the farther away the Observatory seemed.

The message fairly burned in his hand, so important was it. He must get it to Heimdall, he must!

Loki put on an extra burst of speed and the Observatory receded until it was nearly a mile distant.

The pain and horror crushed him as he realized he would arrive too late, that it was already too late. Something terrible had come to pass and he didn’t need to know the exact details to know that it was all his fault. He had failed his father. He had failed his realm. All was lost. He was lost.

Loki fell to his knees with ice in his veins, as he realized he was dying.

* * *

Loki was in bed with Darcy, but everything was going wrong. Everytime he tried to please her, the opposite would occur. He ran his fingertips up her legs, but it tickled her instead of arousing her, and only seemed to make her angry. When he offered to give her a massage, she agreed, but his pressure was too deep, and then too light. She called it off when he’d accidentally hurt her for the third time.

Loki kissed her and their teeth clashed. When she’d recoiled from it, she gave him a wounding glance, as if he’d done it on purpose. He tried to shift down in the bed, kissing as he went. He knew Darcy would have no objections to him lapping at her core, but this time she did. She pushed him away, and he went, sitting up and staring down at her.

“Darling, we don’t have be so intimate tonight, I just…” Loki faltered for a moment. “I thought you wished it.”

Darcy pushed herself up and sat back against the headboard of the bed, her arms crossed in annoyance over her chest. “I do,” she said, her voice petulant.

“Well, then, would you like to participate?” Loki asked, the words sounding far angrier than he meant them to sound.

Darcy rolled her eyes and huffed out a sigh. “Fine,” she spat. “But you could do something actually, you know, _nice.”_

Loki ignored her tone as best he could, and remembered how much she always enjoyed when he shifted to his Jotunn form. He did so, casting his strongest cooling charm on himself so that he could remain comfortable.

He reached out to trail a single fingertip down the center of her chest, momentarily mesmerized by the crackling blue pattern on her skin that quickly raced from the memory of his touch. When he realized what was going on, his hand jerked back, but it was too late.

With a look of horror on her face, horror and betrayal, his beloved Darcy quickly turned her favorite shade of blue and died.

* * *

Loki was running toward the sorceress’s hut in the forest. He had been there twice before to study ever-so-briefly, and it was nearing harvest time in the secluded valley, so it was time to return again. But he’d seen the smoke - too much for a controlled cook fire - even as he made his way through the mountain pass, and his tired horse could run, but not bearing both Loki and his gear. The two ran side-by-side down the mountain pass, because Loki had a very, very bad feeling about this.

It seemed he ran forever, a path previously tinged with anticipation and contemplation now ruined with fear and anxiety for the mistress and her two apprentices.

Who would do such a thing?

How could it even be done?

Thoughts of abject horror and profound disbelief rolled around in his head as he pushed himself to run faster, the smell of the fire becoming stronger and stronger.

Finally he could see glimpses through the forest - and yes, it was Mistress Oydis’ cottage and orchard on fire, and it was racing toward him, even as he was racing towards it.

When Loki reached the clearing just before the cottage, the fire was gone, as if it had never been. No scent. No destruction. Nothing at all. Birds sang as one of the apprentices came out to greet him, to help him with his luggage and to take care of his horse.

The apprentice was a calm and sweet woman, and she crooned to the horse as she brushed him down. Loki was grateful for her presence, even as he tried to understand what was going on.

_“You’re safe now. Everything is okay.”_

Finally, the horse groomed and watered, they carried Loki’s bags into the cottage to the corner that the Mistress had allowed him in the past. Setting everything down, the apprentice turned to him with compassion in her gaze and finally introduced herself as they clasped forearms in the traditional way.

“I’m Natasha, and I’ll be watching over you until you wake up.”

* * *

Loki sat in bed, in the cocoon of an unusual forcefield that nevertheless sparkled in the most entrancing and beautiful fashion. And sitting calmly in a chair just outside of the forcefield was Oydis’s newest apprentice, Natasha. He could see her from his peripheral vision, though he was quite engaged, examining the sparkling dome of protection that rose over him and the bed.

“Hello,” she said quietly. “I’m Natasha Romanov. You’re wife hired me as a bodyguard.”

He turned to stare at her, as she returned his frank gaze.

She sat in the center of a web of lies so complete they hovered in her aura even when she wasn’t actively telling them. Or was that right?

No, Loki thought again, looking more deeply this time. _Oh!_ She _believes_ all of those lies about herself. He was entranced. He’d never met anyone aside from himself who lied quite this much, and held those lies quite so tightly about themselves.

She was like a little spider, a black widow spider, spinning lies and eating mates, and wondering why she was lonely. Well. Loki could relate.

She had some interesting magic, and Loki wondered that she must be a brand new apprentice of Oydis’. But that was confusing. She looked to be at least, at the _very_ least eight centuries old. But Oydis wouldn’t take an apprentice that old, and her magic was too weak, still, too untrained. No, she had to be much, much younger. Loki would bet she hadn’t seen her second century, yet, though certainly her first.

“How old are you, Little Spider Girl?” he asked.

She looked affronted, as only a Midgardian would, at such a question. That alone might explain the quandary, except that a Midgardian at one hundred and fifty years of age did not typically look as this Little Spider looked.

“Twenty-five,” she smoothly lied, and, _“Ninety-five,”_ was clearly revealed to the Master of Lies, even in this dream.

“Excellent!” he crowed, considering that his estimate was not far off in the least, though he was still confused why Oydis should have taken on a strange and deadly Midgardian such as this. But such questions were for after food, because Loki suddenly realized that he was utterly starving and quite lightheaded.

Food and water were brought to him, and Loki wondered if he was still dreaming. Given that Darcy wasn’t around, he probably was.

* * *

Loki sat with his mother while she wove, silent save for the sound of the shuttle flying back and forth, the shedding of the warp, and the beating of the weft. He had come in silently and she had not yet noticed him. It was his favorite thing to do when he returned home, after greeting his father and perhaps, too, his brother if he were around.

Loki sat silently, silently asking the same sort of questions he never quite asked her out loud. And the only answer was the motion of the loom.

_What is it like to be a mother?_

_What is it like to be a seer?_

_What is it like to be the Master of Family Relationships?_

_What will it be like to Master Chaos?_

_What will it be like to Master Lies?_

_Am I a bad person, that lies and chaos come so easily to me?_

_Why did Thor get the mastery of something so useless as Thunder?_

Loki sat silently, except for his mind which would not stop spinning with questions. The loom answered him, but he was not, as his father was, the Master of Languages, and he knew not what was said.

When his mother turned around, it was no longer his mother, but another figure at the loom, Mistress Oydis, who lived a month’s journey away; over the mountains and in the valley forest. She kept goats and chickens and bees and no more that two apprentices at a time. Loki remembered well her fruit and nut orchards, as she only taught him what she would for two weeks after he’d harvested her fruit and gathered the nuts and stored them all carefully in the cold store beneath her cottage, next to the great kegs of aging mead. She was a Mistress of the Ninth, old Oydis was, but that wasn’t why Loki journeyed so far to find her, and return to her once she’d kicked him out, year after year. She was also a Mistress of Illusion, and a Mistress of Placement-of-Things-in-Space. It was she who taught Loki to teleport, and had taught his mother the same when Frigga was but an apprentice, one of the coveted two taken by Oydis. When Loki had first asked his mother if she would teach him, or where he might best learn if not from her, she had directed him.

_“Many things you would learn from Oydis that I could not teach you. Be persistent and persuasive. If she refuses, go and learn something else, somewhere else, and I will teach you what I can, when I can.”_

Oydis sat now, at the loom, which wasn’t a loom anymore, but the back wall of a public house, with two tankards of ale between them. The mischievous old crone drank her beer with a twinkle in her eye.

“Do you know what is real, yet, Son of Frigga’s heart?” Oydis asked him, her voice mingling with the din of the other patrons.

“Yes,” Loki replied, feeling very far away from the table, farther than he could possibly be.

“Wrong answer,” Oydis said, grinning and wiping the foam away from her face with her sleeve.

* * *

Loki sat with his darling wife in a conveyance altogether unfamiliar to him, rough and large and loud. Thor sat on the other side of her, his eyes trained on Nicholas Fury, who was deep in conversation with Darcy as he sat opposite the three. At Darcy’s feet between her and their brother sat the Tesseract in a metal casing, ready to be cast into the deepest, darkest part of the sea on this realm. They were discussing politics, and the politics of covert military operations, specifically the politics of covert military operations with dubious oversight and unlimited funding, and to his amazement, Darcy was holding her own. She wasn’t gaining ground with Fury, but she was holding her own. He was filled with pride, but remained silent, even from distracting her with his thoughts telepathically.

And that is when Loki noticed that he couldn’t hear _her_ thoughts at all. Quite odd, given that she seemed quite happy, but he put the thought in a jar on a shelf in his mind and promised himself to consider it later.

Still, it bothered him, and he began to worry about it.

_Perhaps she’s moved on. You always knew it was a possibility. If she’s moved on, that would explain why you can’t hear her, and why Thor is also here. Or perhaps she has decided that what she truly wants is a normal, human man. The Director is more fond of her than he lets on, you know. He respects her, and that is the first step in a lasting love._

Loki tried to remember something about this, something about his worries and fears concerning Darcy’s fidelity, but he just couldn’t recall what it was. It was important, he knew that, but in the tidal wave of his fears, he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to remember…

_She’s not really going to throw the Tesseract in. This is all a ruse. It’s not even the Tesseract in that metal container. You should stop her. Keep her from doing it. Don’t let on that you know. But this has to be stopped. You have to stop her._

There was something else Loki was trying to remember, something about the Tesseract, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He got up and began pacing around the small space, though no one seemed to care.

In an attempt to calm and center himself, Loki tried to recite the four axioms of illusions, but he couldn’t even remember the first part. What was the first part? If he could just get the first part, the rest would flow from it. He could hear the cadence in his head. _Lies, does the dum-te-dum, Lies, does dum, and dum, and dum. Lies, does the dum. Lies, does the dum._ But what? What lies? For all that was holy! Why couldn’t he remember?

Loki looked away from the people in the craft and worked to master his breathing. In and out, in and out, calmer and calmer, he could do this.

_I am a master of illusion. If I cannot remember the four axioms of illusions, then something else has gone terribly wrong. So what is that something else?_

And then Loki heard Oydis’ voice as clearly as if she were standing next to him. When he turned, he saw her.

 _“Lies, does the sense of place. Lies, does the eyes, and ears, and nose. Lies, does the skin. Lies, does the tongue.”_ And then she continued on. _“Lies, does the heart when in service to the Guest. Why do you make him so welcome, Loki Friggason? He will but use you up like an old rag, fit for nothing but the fire when he’s through. Methought you were Master of Lies! Bah! I’m not impressed, Loki Liesmith. Anyone can lie. Everyone does. So what? You want to impress me, young one? See through_ **_all_ ** _the lies. See through the lies you tell yourself, the lies you believe. See through those, and then I shall call you the Master of Lies. Until then you are but a commonplace liar; pretty, but uninteresting.”_

Mistress Oydis reached up and patted him on the cheek as she called him uninteresting, then stepped back and clicked her fingers and was gone. Loki blinked and continued to chant the four axioms of illusions, with the one addition Oydis had made. He had been at it for sometime, just about to turn around again when he heard Mistress Oydis whisper, though the sound was as if from far away.

_“You’re dreaming, Little Loki. But then you always were.”_

When Loki turned, he saw Darcy, sitting too closely to Thor, engaged in conversation too deeply with Nicholas.

_Lies does the heart when in service to the Guest._

_Lies does the heart when in service to the Guest._

_Lies does the heart when in service to the Guest._

Did Darcy have the true Tesseract? Would she throw it in, when the time came?

_Lies does the heart when in service to the Guest._

_Lies does the heart when in service to the Guest._

_Lies does the heart when in service to the Guest._

Could he trust her? Something inside of him was yelling an incredulous ‘no’, and Loki tried to find it, to search it out and pull it out into the light of day.

_Lies does the heart when in service to the Guest._

It would not be found. It continued to hide in shadows. But this was all a dream. And if it was a dream, then it was time for this Master of Illusions to make himself known.

In a single thought, Loki made everything transparent. Darcy was transparent, delineated only at the edges with a sharp white line. Thor was transparent. Nicholas was transparent. Their transport vehicle was transparent. Loki himself was transparent, and light, pure white light flooded through everything. In fact, Loki had made every single thing in this world transparent, except whatever was lying to him.

Loki reached inside his chest and took hold of that which no longer had any nook or cranny in which to hide. He grabbed it and threw it out onto the transparent floor. It was tiny, but it grew and grew in size until Loki spoke sharply to it.

“Stop!”

It was an odd figure, doll-like, if your preference bent toward the grotesque. Loki imagined that, had he let it, it would have grown into monstrous proportion. The figure was, at the most basic, a bipedal, sentient being not of Yggdrasil. Presently it was less than a yard high.

Loki kept all in the dream transparent, save his Uninvited Guest. In a flash of understanding, Loki realized that this Uninvited Guest did not want the Tesseract hidden so obscurely, and so his Uninvited Guest was, in all likelihood, _The Meddler._

Loki bowed to his guest. “I am Loki, Crown Prince of Asgard, the Eternal Realm of Yggdrasil. And you are?”

His guest did not bow. “I am Thanos, of Gra’ctik, the Lover of Death.”

That name was familiar. It took Loki the space of three heartbeats to place it, however. He smiled when he did. “ _You_ are Thanos, the Undying!” Loki was as pleased to have so easily figured out the identity of the Meddler, as he was amused at the rageful countenance on the small doll-figure’s face.

Instantly he was assaulted with fears of Darcy’s fidelity, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the three of them doing things he was certain were not actually occurring. Because, he realized, this had nothing to do with Darcy and everything to do with a single solitary fear he had - _she would tire of him -_ and the ways that his Uninvited Guest would twist that fear.

_Lies, does the eyes, the ears, the nose. Lies, does the heart in the service of the Guest._

Out of the corner of his eye, the three were sitting again, Thor staring at Nicholas, Darcy conversing with Nicholas. Nothing to fear. Nothing unusual. Nothing wrong.

Loki laughed at the guest, but it was a good-natured laugh.

“My fears and desires are laid plain before you, I see,” Loki said, still grinning. And then another sudden insight. Something that the ancient texts said nothing of, but was now plain, as Loki looked through the illusions, through the lies, even the lies that the Gra’ctician told himself.

“I can help you, you know,” Loki pointed out, having just had one of his _best ideas yet._

“Yes, you can, little princeling. You can refrain from hiding that gem and instead hand it over to my messenger.”

Loki gave the doll figure a dubious look, while still smirking. “Actually, no. I was referring to your first problem, the one that you have not yet solved acting the way you have and that you will continue to fail to solve, acting as you will. _That_ problem. Leave off this incessant meddling and I will solve it for you.”

Silence was stretched in that odd dream space wherein everything was translucent except the one uninvited guest.

“Ten Yiggdrasilian years,” the figure finally said. “If you do not, as you say, solve it for me within the space of ten years, I will wipe clean the very memory of your precious Yggdrasil, such that no one will even so much as recall that the galaxy existed.”

Bathed in light and laughing, Loki smiled in agreement, and then awoke.

He struggled to sit up in bed, the bed linens tangled around his frame. By the time he did sit up and blink away the sleep, he was caught by the fragment of a memory.

He was with Darcy, and he was laughing, and… something else. Something else, and it was important, and he’d forgotten even the taste of it in his mind.

Loki made a mental note to consider his forgotten dreams and attempt to recall them, but by the time he’d finished eating what Natasha had brought, he’d forgotten his mental note, too.

* * *

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right! So, take a deep breath and tell me what you think, yes? (Would that be lovely? That would be lovely!)
> 
> When you're done reviewing, know that I'm in progress with the first chapter of the third book, the sequel to this one. In the interim, if you're casting about for things to read, I would like to present you with the following not-entirely-modest list:
> 
> -[Earth's New Power Couple!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4588941) This is an outtake of the series which takes place, so far, after the third and yet-to-be written book. This is still a canonical outtake and is complete in one chapter.  
> -[An Apprentice's Guide to Source and Dream](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5576239), a companion work to the series. This is the ethical poem/theology that Darcy was reading in The Crown Prince.  
> -[Special Delivery](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7707226), an outtake of The Crown Prince, complete in one chapter. Particularly nice if you're a Bucky fan. And it seems many of you are.  
> -[Loki: A Character Study](https://sareliz.com/2016/03/30/loki-a-character-study/) on my blog.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always curious about what those who read the work think about it, so please feel free to share that with me.
> 
> And if you really liked the story, sign up on my mailing list to hear word of when I publish the _**original fiction**_ version of this story which is even more awesome and full of win that this very cool rough draft has been. (No really. It got even better, and there are more scenes and less continuity errors.) You can join the mailing list [ here](https://goo.gl/forms/gkKL4qTBzDQo2mz92). 
> 
> One last thing: You guys are awesome. And I don't just say that because you leave me love. You just are. So, thanks for that.


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